Unbreakable
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: "Can I start you off with something to drink, then?" "Erm, I'd like one order of . . . the Phoenix Firewhiskey?" The ginger's head snapped up. "You want an order of the Phoenix?" /First in the trilogy.
1. Forward

___Forward_

_What follows takes place in a universe where the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows did not occur. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger did indeed choose to forgo their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in favor of pursuing and destroying the horcruxes of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but the trio were not able to complete their mission._

_Three years passed. Ron and Hermione gave up the hunt and returned to Britain, where they called upon the members of their old defense association and merged Dumbledore's Army with the Order of the Phoenix. Harry, however, continued to search obsessively for the horcruxes. He sometimes traveled back to London when the Order held important meetings, but his appearances became increasingly scarce. When our story begins, he has been absent for longer than a year._

_Meanwhile, because he faced so little opposition from Harry, the Dark Lord Voldemort grew stronger by the day. . . ._


	2. Revelio - Reveal

1. _Revelio/_Reveal

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron," said the ginger in a dull voice. "I'll be your waitress this afternoon. Do you need another minute to decide?"

"No, thank you," the raven-haired beauty said lightly. "I'm ready."

"Can I start you off with something to drink, then?"

"Erm, I'd like one order of . . . the Phoenix Firewhiskey?"

The ginger's head snapped up. "You want an order of the Phoenix?" she repeated, just to be sure. The beauty nodded. "Of course. Only, I'm awful busy - " (the pub was almost completely empty) " - and it'd really help me out if you could come back to the kitchen and get it for yourself."

"Um. . . ." The beauty looked nervous. "Okay."

"Good. Follow me, then."

The ginger led the beauty back behind the bar and into the kitchen. "_Revelio,_" she muttered to a cabinet next to the oven. A door sprung forth and opened to reveal a set of stone steps leading down into darkness. "You're new, huh?" the ginger asked as the beauty gawked at the chasm. "I'm Ginny. You're one of the first ones here, they usually don't come in until after nine."

"Oh." The beauty's face turned red. "I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it." Ginny offered a tight smile. "Just go down the steps and wait for the rest of the members." The beauty looked terrified. "It's not actually that dark. It's a spell we use to make it less conspicuous."

"Will I be the only one down there?"

"Nah, George Weasley - my brother - and Katie Bell are here. They're always here. They like to stay away from all the action. Plan strategies from afar and all that."

"Oh." The beauty looked relieved. "I know Katie's sister. She recruited me."

"Good. Then you'll have friends." Ginny craned her neck to see around the corner. More people were lining up at the bar. "I've got customers, but you go ahead down. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Ginny." The beauty smiled gratefully.

"No problem." Ginny scooped up a tray of dirty dishes and balanced it against her hip. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."


	3. Morsmorde - Death

2. _Morsmorde/_Death

Ginny had never had a bigger headache.

Friday evenings were always busy, but the pub was positively overflowing tonight. She couldn't keep straight which guests were members of the Order and which were just bar patrons looking to get drunk. Of course there were the usuals - once she looked up just in time to see Neville duck into the kitchen - but most of the room was filled with new members on their way to their first meeting. Nearly every order she took was for a Phoenix Firewhiskey, and she began to wonder whether it was worth the trouble to keep closing and reopening the hidden stairs.

Around ten o'clock, Ron poked his head into the kitchen to see how she was doing. "Busy night, huh, Gin?"

She leaned against the counter and wiped her forehead with a rag. "You're telling me. Got a big meeting planned?"

"Recruitment night," he replied. "We've got loads of new members. It's almost full down there."

"Almost full up here, too," she said with a sigh. "Are the usuals here, too, then?"

"Yep. Hermione, Fred, Luna . . . the usuals." He saw her face fall a little. "He's not here, if that's what you're asking. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said airily, turning to pour herself some butterbeer. "You're doing fine on your own, you don't need him."

"Gin, the second he comes back, I swear you'll be the first - "

"I don't care." She waved her hand in the air and drained her glass. "He can do what he wants. He's Harry Potter. I don't need to know."

Ron sighed. "We all miss him, Ginny."

She dropped the glass in the sink and muttered a spell. The sponges and dishtowels sprang to life and began to scrub at it. "He doesn't even know about the new headquarters. Idiot. He'll waltz on up to Grimmould Place and find nothing. That's what he gets for leaving."

"He'll find us."

"Who knows," she muttered, grabbing her quill and her pad of paper. "I have to get back to work. I'll talk to you later." Ron smiled tightly and disappeared back down the stairs. Ginny swooped out of the kitchen and targeted a gangly brunet who had just sat down. "What can I get for you?" she asked.

"Um. . . ." The boy looked nervous. "Yeah, I'm here for . . . you know, the meeting?"

Ginny clenched her teeth. _Say the code. You have to say the code. _"I'm sorry, sir?" she said, widening her eyes slightly at him. "What would you like to order?"

"I want to join . . . you know, the Order of the Phoenix?" he offered in a loud whisper. Ginny slammed her teeth down on her tongue. At the next table over, out of her sightline, a stranger in a hood sat up a little straighter.

"Sir, you must be confused. _May I take your order?_"

"Mundungus Fletcher sent me?" the boy tried. "He said you have meetings in the back. About, you know, fighting You-Know-Who."

"_Sir_," Ginny hissed. "I think you're mistaken. I think you'd better go."

"No, no, I swear, I . . . oh, there was a password . . . I was supposed to order something that isn't on the menu . . . I don't remember it now, but you have to let me in!"

Ginny wanted to bash her head into the table. "Come with me," she said, yanking him up by his collar. She pulled him to the kitchen. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing!" she yelled when they were alone.

"I - um, the meeting - "

"You can't just _say _you want to go to the meetings! They're top secret! This place is packed. Anyone could overhear you. That's why we have the code!"

"I told you, I couldn't remember it!" The boy looked as if he were going to cry.

Ginny took two deep breaths. "You're lucky it was noisy tonight," she sighed, pulling out her wand and tapping the cabinet. "Down the stairs. And in the future, you order the Phoenix Firewhiskey. Understand?"

The boy trotted down the steps without replying. Ginny closed the hatch and pressed her back up against it. "Lucky it was noisy," she repeated quietly as she rejoined the drunken patrons.

Across the room, the stranger under the hood smiled darkly and pressed a finger against his right forearm.

* * *

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, what can I get for you?" Ginny asked for the thousandth time that night.

"I'll have a butterbeer and some chips," the man said, and Ginny let out an internal sigh of relief. Finally, an actual customer with actual money she could send home.

"I'll get right on that for you, sir," she said, collecting his menu and walking back to the kitchen. The butterbeer was running low; she muttered a spell and the pitcher refilled itself to the brim. The dirty dishes were piling up, and the enchanted sponges couldn't keep up with all the new plates she kept dumping in the sink, but she didn't have time to deal with any of it now. Not for the first time, she wished she had somebody else back here to help her.

As she was walking back out to the dining room, the cabinet next to the oven shuddered and moved aside. Ron poked his head out again. "Anyone new arriving? We're almost out of room. You'll have to start turning them away."

"I'm about to close up anyway," Ginny said, peeking into the dining room. A group of about a dozen was coming through the door. "This is probably the last wave. How's everything going?"

"It's going well. We're talking tactics."

"Anything I can help with?" she asked half-heartedly. She already knew the answer.

"Not yet. Just keep doing what you're doing."

"As usual," she said bitterly. Ron sighed.

"Come on, Ginny, don't act like - "

A shout from the dining room interrupted them. Ginny swore under her breath. "Probably another bar fight. I'll go sort it out. Seal the entrance up, will you? We have to be careful. Some new bloke almost blew it tonight." She went out to the dining area, hands on her hips. "What's all the noise?" she yelled, and then she froze.

Twelve figures in hoods stood in a line in front of the door, wands brandished. The entire dining room went silent as one man stepped forward and aimed his wand at the ceiling.

"_Morsmorde_."

He said it a whisper, but the room was quiet enough that it could have been a shout. Ginny's entire body went numb. _The Dark Mark._

The room was still for one, two, three seconds. Then the Death Eaters began to fire curses in every direction at once, and the pub exploded. Ginny dropped to the floor and started crawling toward the safety of the kitchen. All around her, people were screaming, bleeding, dying. Tables flew across the room, bottles and glasses exploded against the walls, neon jets of light whizzed past her at such a proximity that she could feel the heat they emitted.

"No survivors," a familiar voice yelled over the din; as she recognized it, Ginny almost threw up. She hadn't heard that voice since Hogwarts. . . .

"Kill them all," Lucius Malfoy continued. Ginny cowered in the corner of the kitchen, fumbling to get a good grip on her wand. _Open the cabinet. Open the cabinet, run down the stairs, and you're safe. You can warn the others._

But then there were footsteps outside the kitchen door. They were right behind her. She'd never make it in time. They'd see.

As they burst into the kitchen, Ginny dropped her wand, closed her eyes, and pretended to be invisible. "A Weasley?" she heard Mr. Malfoy say. "Is she dead?"

"Nah," Dolohov replied. "I can see her breathin'."

"Shall I do the honors, then?" Bellatrix Lestrange said. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut more tightly.

"No," Mr. Malfoy said tersely. Ginny thought he almost sounded exasperated. "Not this one. This one's important. Harry Potter's little girlfriend. The Dark Lord will want this one for questioning." Ginny's eyes flew open.

"Get her, then," Dolohov said carelessly.

"Not so fast," Bellatrix mused. "Rookwood says he overheard her talking to someone from the Order of the Phoenix."

"I don't see any Order," Dolohov grunted.

"Nor do I, fool, but we haven't searched very hard yet." Bellatrix yanked Ginny up by her hair. "Where's the meeting, blood traitor?"

Ginny didn't let her eyes flick to the cabinet. "I d-don't know what you're talking - "

"_Crucio!_"

She screamed, then regretted it. If Ron heard, he'd be up to see what was wrong. She clenched her jaw and refused to scream again.

"Oh, she's got _control_, this one," Bellatrix squealed. "Dolohov? Care to help?"

Dolohov lazily flicked his wand and began an incantation, but before he could finish, Ginny had lashed out with her foot and splintered his wand with a hard kick. Dolohov howled and let his fist shoot forward, hitting her under the eye. She grunted, but didn't scream. "I've had enough," Mr. Malfoy interrupted. "We bring her to the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix looked disappointed. "As you command, Lucius," she said, wrapping her arm around Ginny's waist. There was a sickening sensation of side-along apparation, and then the combination of pain and terror became too much, and all Ginny saw was black.


	4. Tergeo - Cleanse

3. _Tergeo/_Cleanse

She woke the next morning to the sound of arguing.

"What happened to her?" hissed a jarringly familiar voice. Ginny's blood ran cold.

"M'Lord, she - she put up a bit o' a fight - "

"And so you hit her? Like a muggle?"

"My Lo - "

"Where was your _wand,_ idiot?"

"She knocked it out o' me hand, my Lord!" Dolohov's voice was high with panic.

"The blood traitor has become stronger," a new voice interjected coolly. "They had no choice, my Lord."

"Dolohov. Narcissa. Leave me. I will deal with your insubordination later."

She heard their footsteps receding, then Dolohov's voice: "She ain't _dead_, at least. We did our job. You never said - "

"_Crucio._"

The sound of the curse's name made Ginny jerk, and for a terrifying second she thought the spell had been aimed at her. Then Dolohov's yells rang through the room, and she let her joints go limp, praying they hadn't seen her move. The yells were cut off by a door slamming. All was silent. She dared to relax.

"Come, now, Ginevra. We're all alone. You don't have to pretend. I know you're awake."

She opened her eyes. Exhaled. "You," she whispered. That voice had haunted her dreams for years. It was impossible to forget.

"Miss me?" was all he said.

"I haven't forgotten you, if that's what you're asking."

"Of course you haven't forgotten me. How could you?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You don't look like yourself."

He smirked. "Age reversal potion. Your 'Professor' Snape came up with it. Do you like it?" She didn't answer. Of course he looked handsome, with his thick black hair and striking dark eyes, but just because he'd readopted his sixteen-year-old form didn't mean she despised him any less. "You don't seem frightened," he mused.

"I'm not."

He nodded appraisingly. "Interesting."

"Do you think I should be?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I think you haven't felt frightened in a very long time, Miss Weasley." He reached to cup her face in his hand, thumb caressing her bruised cheekbone. She stiffened. "They hit you?"

"Obviously."

"Is it painful?"

She didn't answer. He pressed his thumb in harder. "It looks quite painful," he prompted

"Are you going to question me or not?"

He stopped touching her face. "Beg pardon?"

"You want to question me. That's what Malfoy and the others said in the pub."

He laughed. "Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No."

"You're lying, but no matter. I know all about your job, Miss Weasley. You're the _gatekeeper. _You _open the door_. You don't attend the meetings, where's the point in questioning you?"

She felt her face growing red. "Then let me go."

"Fine." He waved his hand at the door. "Go."

She didn't move. "There's a catch."

He smirked. "Clever girl. Of course there's a catch. You haven't the slightest idea where you are. You haven't got your wand. You haven't any food or water or supplies. You'll die before you make it halfway to _anywhere._ If you want to run, no one will stop you. You pose no threat to me."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, slid off the bed, and flung open the door. She was met with a flight of stairs leading down to a large, open foyer. With a little glance over her shoulder, she marched down the steps, fully expecting him to come after her, but he didn't move.

The front door was unlocked, to her surprise. She pushed it open, and then gasped. It looked as if the house were trapped within a cloud of sand. Tiny grains of it whipped around, flying into her eyes and nose, making her cough. Squinting hard, she stepped out of the house and started walking. The tempest of sand blew back against her, holding her in like a barrier, but she threw her weight against the wall and pushed onward. In less than one minute, she was blind. In two minutes, she couldn't breathe. She fell to her knees and buried her face against herself, trying to expel the gritty sand lining her throat.

Two hands came down and dragged her to her feet, and then a pair of arms had her wrapped in a hug. She heard a _crack _and felt the queasiness of side-along apparation, and then the hands had dropped her, and she was lying flat on her back in Tom's foyer.

"You see?" Tom said from above her. Ginny coughed violently. "Nowhere for you to run. _Tergeo_," he added almost tenderly, and she felt the sand siphoned off her face. She took a deep shuddery breath. "You're safer if you just stay here."

"What do you want from me," she said hoarsely, staring up at him.

"I want to protect you," he replied, and she laughed humorlessly.

"You want me to tell you where Harry is," she spat, getting to her feet. "But I can't do that. Harry's gone. Nobody's seen him in months. Even I don't know where he went."

Tom smiled slightly. "I really do intend to protect you," he said. "My grudge is against Potter, not you."

"Anything you do to Harry, you'll have to do to me, too," she fired back. "I'm not afraid of you, Tom Riddle. I haven't been afraid of you since I was eleven years old."

He smirked. "I very much doubt that," he said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her toward the staircase. She wrenched out of his hold. "Let's go upstairs," he said soothingly. "I'll show you where you can find clothes, and you can dress for breakfast."

"What sort of breakfast," she asked sourly, following him up to the second floor, "poisoned muffins and tea made of mandrake leaves?"

He laughed. Ginny almost froze. She hadn't heard that laugh in so long. . . . "Anything you want, Gin. Just ask the elves." He pushed open the door to the room in which she'd awoken and led her to a wardrobe. "Dressing gowns and robes are in here."

She scowled at the long black capes. "I like what I'm wearing, thanks."

"You will change for breakfast."

"No, thank you."

His eyes narrowed. A thrill coursed through her veins. "As a guest in my household, I - "

"Guest? I'm a guest now? That's a funny way of pronouncing 'prisoner.'"

He sighed. "Don't be difficult, Ginevra, just pick a dress robe and - "

"And then what, you'll serve me crumpets and send me on my way?"

"Do not force my hand."

"What, you're going to hex me? Do it. Maybe you'll take it too far and kill me, and then I'll never have to see your face again."

His eyes flashed. "I expect you at the breakfast table in half an hour," he said coolly. "If you fail to arrive, I shall have to send one of my Death Eaters up to fetch you. And you know how _they_ can be." With a flick of his cloak, he vanished from the room. The door slammed and locked behind him, and Ginny sank onto the bed, finally allowing tears to well up in her eyes as she entertained the notion that Harry wouldn't be coming for her this time.


	5. Colloportus - Lock

4. _Colloportus/_Lock

At breakfast (none of which was poisoned), Tom laid out his rules.

"You will not leave this house without being accompanied by me or one of my Death Eaters - although considering what happened earlier, I doubt you're eager to try that again soon," he said cheerfully while spooning oatmeal into his mouth. Ginny poked at her omelet with a fork. "You will have no contact with the Order of the Phoenix. You will not be permitted to hold a wand - "

Ginny slammed her fork down. "What?" she cried.

" - under any circumstances," Tom finished, smirking. "You will not - "

"No _wand?_"

"No wand."

She began to pat at her pockets, feeling for her wand until she remembered he'd forced her to change clothes. "I - you - you can't do that. It's mine!"

"You will not speak against me," Tom said lazily, "nor will you disobey any of my rules. The consequences for that will be severe. Eat up, Ginevra."

She pushed her plate toward the middle of the table. "I'm not hungry."

"You will eat when I tell you to eat. That's another rule. I'll not have you starving yourself. Or harming yourself in any way, for that matter."

Ginny mumbled darkly under her breath while shoving bits of omelet into her mouth.

"You will not lock any doors. You will respect me and my Death Eaters at all times. And . . . when I want you near me, you will come. That's the most important one, I think." She didn't look up from her plate. "That about covers it, I suppose."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Am I allowed to breathe, Master? Will you permit me to roll over in my sleep? Or is that too much to ask?"

She was expecting anger, or maybe an exasperated eye-roll, but he smiled and rose from the table. "All finished?"

"Yeah, you're a horrible cook," she said, laying down her fork. "This is the worst omelet I've ever - " She caught sight of a house elf wearing a chef's hat poking its head out the kitchen door, listening intently, and she cut herself off, but it was too late. The elf's tiny face fell; its eyes grew shiny with tears and its bulging lips trembled. "I - I mean - I didn't - it was a good omelet," she finished lamely. The elf hurriedly retracted its head into the kitchen. She could hear it bawling on the other side of the door.

Tom's mouth was curved up in a tiny amused smirk. "Come, Ginevra. I'll give you tour of the house." She rose and followed him, wincing as they passed the kitchen.

"Will he be okay?" she asked. He didn't answer.

"This is my office," he said a moment later, gesturing at a large oak door with a brass knocker. "It's out of bounds for you. Not that you could get inside anyway. There's a password." To prove his point, he lifter the knocker and let it fall again. The snake's head sculpted in the brass hissed and asked, "Passsssssword?"

"Now, down this hall is the Death Eaters' apartments. The Malfoys, the Rookwoods, the Dolohovs, Crabbe, Goyle, the Notts . . . most of my followers live here. Again, this area is out of bounds for you."

"Wouldn't come here anyway," she muttered, glaring at the door marked, "Lestrange."

He led her up a flight of stairs. "This floor is yours. Your bedroom, your bathroom, your study, your library." He pointed at each door as he described its contents. "You will dine with me downstairs."

He took her through the rest of the house, showing her practice rooms and weaponries and rooms with newspaper clippings plastered across the walls, clippings about Tom and Harry and Death Eaters and the Dark Mark and Dumbledore and Hogwarts. And then there were muggle newspapers strewn across the floor. These contained the strange non-moving photographs, most of them depicting an orphanage. As soon as he saw Ginny trying to read the muggle articles, Tom drew her away and closed the door.

"_Colloportus,_" he muttered. The locks clicked shut._ "_There, that's your tour. The rest of the day is yours. Explore, read, do what you will. I expect you back in the dining room for dinner at eight o'clock. Don't make me come looking for you." He went down the hall toward his office; as soon as he was out of sight she turned the handle to get back inside the newspaper room, but the door was locked.


	6. Reparo - Repair

_5. Reparo_/Repair

To Ginny's delight, one of the wardrobes in the largest practice room contained a set of brooms and Quidditch balls. She flew through the high-ceilinged room, tearing after the tiny snitch, imagining Lee Jordan's voice offering cheeky commentary and bludgers swooping dangerously around her. She'd never played Seeker, but she narrowed her eyes and streaked after the tiny ball with the same determination she'd used as a Chaser. She hadn't played Quidditch in so many years . . . not since Hogwarts . . . not since Dumbledore. . . .

A wave of despair poured through her; she fumbled with the snitch, dropped it, lost her grip, and went spiraling into the wardrobe. The cupboard shuddered but didn't collapse; the broom was not so lucky. As it collided with the back of the wardrobe, its handle snapped in two. Swearing under her breath, Ginny dusted herself off and glared up at the snitch, soaring near the ceiling, hopelessly out of reach. "_Reparo,_" she muttered to the broom, then remembered she didn't have a wand and chucked the useless pile of wood into the wardrobe.

A tiny glow in the corner of the closet caught her eye. She pushed some robes out of the way and reached toward the light. Her hand closed around a heavy stone basin, filled with a silvery mist that could have been either liquid or gas. The substance swirled in paisley patterns until she poked it with a splintered end of the broom; the mist cleared immediately, revealing a scene at the bottom of the basin. A tiny figure was moving down there, running, and as Ginny leaned closer to see, the tip of her nose grazed the surface, and then she was falling, shoved by an invisible hand into the depths of the basin, only instead of hitting the bottom she fell right through it and landed on her feet in - no, it couldn't be. . . .

Two young girls were swinging back and forth on a playground, shrieking and laughing to each other. "Lily, don't do it!" one of them shrieked as her companion jumped from her swing at the apex of its flight path and floated to the ground with an impossible gentleness. In a bush on the other side of the playground, out of sight of the two girls but completely obvious to Ginny, crouched a young Severus Snape.

"Mummy told you not to," the other girl was shouting, dragging her sandaled feet against the ground to slow herself. "Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!"

"But I'm fine," Lily replied. She twirled around to show her sister her unscathed body. Ginny started toward Snape. "Tuney, look at this!" Lily prattled behind her.

"Snape?" Ginny whispered, but the boy behind the bush couldn't hear her, the same way Tom hadn't been able to hear her in the diary so many years ago. He was peering through the leaves at the girls (they'd moved closer now) and with a deep breath, he popped up and said, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"What's obvious?" Lily asked.

"I know what you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're . . . you're a witch," Snape whispered, and Ginny looked a little closer at the red-haired girl called Lily. _Lily Potter? _

"You _are_ a witch," Snape was insisting now. "I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."

Ginny, losing interest in the conversation, was glad when the memory faded and a new scene came into focus. Snape and Lily were sitting together, discussing dementors and magic. The sister, Petunia, was crying that she didn't wanted to go to Hogwarts anyway. Now they were on the train, and there was a young Sirius, and a boy who looked exactly like Harry but without the scar. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy," Snape was taunting, and Sirius and Mr. Potter laughed and jeered at him while Lily stood by looking angry.

Ginny watched Snape's sorting, watched Lily and Snape's friendship become battered and bruised as Snape fell in with the Death Eaters, watched him undergo torture by Sirius and heartbreak by Lily. And then Dumbledore was there, telling Snape to beg Voldemort to spare Lily, comforting him when Voldemort ignored his pleadings. Dumbledore told Snape to protect Harry. Ginny's heart throbbed at the sound of his name.

A new memory dissolved into view, this one a discussion between Dumbledore and Snape about a cursed ring and Draco Malfoy.

"Are you intending to let him kill you?" Snape was saying now.

"Certainly not," replied Dumbledore. "_You_ must kill me."

Ginny gasped audibly.

"Would you like me to do it now," Snape said sarcastically, "or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"

"Oh, not quite yet," said Dumbledore, smiling. Ginny's heart was pounding too loudly. _You must kill me. You must kill me. You must kill me._

"If you don't mind dying," Snape was saying, "why not let Draco do it?" But Ginny didn't care about the rest. Dumbledore had asked Snape to kill him. Dumbledore had wanted to die. Dumbledore had said _you must._

The next memories slid by without Ginny noticing. She heard Harry's name, she head Lily's name, she heard her own surname once or twice, but nothing mattered. Dumbledore was dead. Snape had killed him. But Dumbledore had wanted to die. Snape had been acting on Dumbledore's orders. Snape had been protecting Harry. Snape . . . Dumbledore . . . Harry. . . .

Then the final memory was clouding, fading, and she could feel her real body bending over the pensieve, and she willed herself to pull her head up and break free of the memories.


	7. Obliviate - Forget

_6. Obliviate/_Forget

Ginny sat back on her heels, panting, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. Ron had always been so sure Snape was evil . . . all the evidence supported him . . . he'd killed Dumbledore. . . .

_But Dumbledore had wanted to die._

Maybe it wasn't real, she decided. Maybe it was some kind of boggart-esque creature that knew how to form elaborate collages of peoples' worst fears. She ran her hand over the stone basin and found the word PENSIEVE engraved in tiny capital letters near the bottom. She'd heard of pensieves before. According to Ron, Dumbledore used to have one in his office. They were used to store painful and unwanted memories. Painful, unwanted, _true _memories.

Ginny exhaled slowly. If it were true, if Snape had been good all this time, then she had an ally in this house. He could help her escape, help her pass information to the Order, feed her secrets about Tom's plans. . . .

And before she could convince herself it was a bad idea, Ginny was out of the practice room and racing down the hallway. She threw herself down a flight of stairs, not caring that she was making enough noise to wake the dead. She half-expected some curse to hit her as she stepped into the forbidden corridor of Death Eater apartments, but nothing happened. She slowed just enough to read the names engraved into the knockers: Yaxley. Travers. Thicknesse. Lestrange. Twelve doors passed before she finally came to the one she wanted. _Snape._

She grabbed the knocker and slammed it repeatedly until Snape came to the door. "Weasley?" he said, looking utterly surprised.

"Professor," she whispered breathlessly.

"You're out of bounds, Miss Weasley."

"Professor Snape. Please. Let me come in."

"It isn't safe for you here," he drawled.

"Please." She lowered her voice. "I know the truth about what happened to Dumbledore."

His face hardened. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I saw your memories." She still didn't have her breath back. "Can you deliver a message to the Order for me? Will you tell them I'm here?"

His eyes widened, though the rest of his face didn't move. "Miss Weasley, I'm afraid you're very much mistaken."

"And if I hear more about his plans," she continued urgently, ignoring his denial, "will you pass them on to the Order? If I write notes, will you deliver them to Ron?"

"_Weasley,_" Snape hissed through clenched teeth. "Shut your mouth this _instant._"

"Severus," she said desperately. "Severus, please, can't you help me get out of here?"

He seemed startled by her use of his given name. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about, Miss Weasley, and if you don't get out of my sight this instant I'll have no choice but to report you to the Dark Lord." He leaned forward just a little and mouthed, "Run."

"Professor. Please."

"There are sensors," he breathed. "The others know you're here."

"Can't you just tell my brother - "

A door down the corridor slammed open. Snape cursed under his breath and pulled out his wand. "_Obliviate,_" he murmured, and all Ginny could do was stand on Snape's doorstep, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a goldfish's, trying desperately to remember how she'd gotten there.

"Severus?" a high-pitched voice called from the other side of the hallway. "I heard shouting."

"Everything's fine, Bella," Snape said cooly. "Go back inside."

"No, no, no," Bellatrix cooed, drawing her wand as she crossed down to Snape's doorstep. "What have we here? Weasley? The Dark Lord's new favorite? What are you doing here?"

"I. . . ." Ginny struggled to remember. "I. . . ."

"Come, come, now. Don't be shy," Bellatrix said delightedly. "Tell Auntie Bella what you've been up to."

Ginny was shaking. "Nothing," she whispered. Bellatrix tutted.

"You shouldn't be here, love." The older witch twirled her wand between her fingers.

"T-Tom said - "

"Tom!" Bellatrix spat, glaring at Ginny with the ferocity of a hyena. "Tom! You will refer to him as the Dark Lord." She pointed her wand directly between Ginny's eyes. "Understand? On your knees, Weasley!"

"Bella," Snape said lazily, "I hate to interrupt, but perhaps it would be wiser to let Miss Weasley off with a warning."

"A warning?" Bella turned to face Snape, a manic glint shining in her eye. "She's been warned. The Dark Lord told her this was out of bounds, and she ignored him!"

"She made a mistake. She's a child. Children are rather stupid. You ought to know, your sister has one."

"Still," Bellatrix said hotly, "she needs to be taught a lesson. You know all about lessons, don't you, Severus? What with your _cover_ and all?"

Ginny's boldness was returning fast. "He barely taught us anything at Hogwarts, actually," she interjected cheekily. Both adults turned to look at her. Bellatrix grinned ferociously.

"Ahh, not so good at teaching, eh, Severus?" She had her wand trained on Ginny's face again. "I'll have to give you a demonstration." Ginny glared into the wand. "I believe I told you to kneel, blood traitor."

"I don't have to take orders from you."

"Punishment is not beneath me, my dear. _Kneel._"

She stood her ground. "You won't hurt me. You were right before, I _am _the new favorite around here. Tom wouldn't like it if you - "

"_You will not call him by that name!"_

"I've always called him Tom before!" Ginny shouted back. Snape had retreated into his apartment. It was just the two of them.

Instead of yelling, Bellatrix lowered her wand thoughtfully. "Before?" she said distantly, a condescending tone marring her voice. "Ah, yes, you're the little traitor from the Chamber of Secrets, aren't you?" She began to laugh. "Did you _love _him, Weasley?" Ginny's courage was waning fast. Her heart picked up speed, pumping blood into her cheeks. Bella grinned. "You did, didn't you! Imagine that. A little tiny traitor, in love with the greatest wizard of all time!"

"I didn't love him," Ginny said in a low voice. "I never loved him. I never_ will_ love him. I . . . I love Harry Potter! And he's a greater wizard than Tom Riddle could ever _hope _to be!"

With a growl, Bellatrix let a flurry of sparks fly from her wand into Ginny's face. "I believe I told you," she said, all playfulness gone from her voice, "to call him the _Dark Lord._ And I believe I also asked you a question: what are you doing here, Miss Weasley?" Ginny began to tremble.

"I was exploring. Tom - the Dark Lord - he told me I could explore until dinner." She refused to look away from Bellarix's eyes.

"Do you know what I think?" Bellatrix whispered finally. "I think you're lying to me." Ginny's heart sped up. "Do you know what I do with liars?"

"You can't hurt me. Tom will - "

"I can't _kill _you," Bellatrix corrected. "I can _hurt _you all I want." She leered at Ginny. "I believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your brother." A tsunami of grief knocked the breath out of Ginny's lungs. "Ickle Billykins wasn't it? The one with the werewolf bites all over his face? That's the one. It was a good killing, too. One of my best. I had him on his knees, begging for mercy, screaming with pain. . . ."

"Stop!" Ginny cried, her voice strangled with emotion. Bellatrix's grin widened.

"You Weaselys, you respond well to torture," she continued. "I think we'll start with a little . . . _crucio!"_

The pain hit Ginny like a ton of bricks. She hit the ground, screaming, clutching at her sides. She was exploding; every cell of her body was a firework, and they were all about to burst. "S-s-s-stop," she panted when Bellatrix paused in the torture. "P-p-p-p-please. . . ."

"'Please'?" Bellatrix echoed, a sadistic grin engulfing her countenance. "Is that all you can say, little traitor? _Sectumsempra!" _Ginny shrieked as the hex attacked her, thrusting knives through her skin, slashing tears into her flesh. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, coating her entire body with the sticky red fluid of life.

"Oh, please," Ginny begged, tears merging with the blood on her face. She was disgusted with herself for begging, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Oh, please, please, p-please, stop. . . ."

"_Crucio!_" Bellatrix cried again, and again the pain exploded inside her. She felt her organs twisting, writhing. Bellatrix laughed above her, cackling as Ginny died at her feet.

"Harry" Ginny gasped, eyes slipping closed. "Harry, come save me . . . Harry . . . help. . . ."

And then, without warning, the curse was lifted, and a good deal of the pain disappeared. She heard him, far above her, his high, cold voice, screaming curses at Bellatrix, and she heard the Death Eater crying out in fear and pain, but all she could focus on was the dull ache that rang through her body. Then strong arms wrapped around her, and she let her body go limp as her rescuer—or captor, depending on how you looked at it—carried her away from the forbidden corridor.

"What were you _thinking_, Ginevra?" he demanded harshly as he bore her up the stairs to her bedroom.

"I . . . I'm sorry." It hurt to talk. It hurt to do _anything. _She couldn't even open her eyes. She tried to remember why she'd gone down there in the first place, why she'd needed to see Snape, why she felt an inexplicable urge to _trust _that murderer . . . .

He placed her carefully on the bed. "_Reparo_," he whispered, and the skin around her wounds laced itself back together. He laid a cool hand against her forehead. She moaned at the contact, reaching up to take his other hand and positioning it against her cheek. The temperature of his skin soothed the ache in her head. "Ginny," he sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Let me go home," she replied faintly. He sighed again and lay down next to her, keeping his cool hands pressed to her face. "Am I going to die?" she asked, pushing her eyelids back.

Tom smirked slightly. "No," he said after a pause. "No, I think you'll be alright."

"Oh." She let her eyes fall shut. "That's a shame."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then: "You desire death?"

With an effort, she opened her eyes again. "If I can't go home, I don't want to exist."

Tom pushed the hair back from her face. "This is your home now."

"Then why am I treated like a prisoner?"

"Because if I let you, you'll leave."

Her heart ached.

"And you'll bring your Order back here to upset my plans," he continued. She sighed and rearranged his hand on her face. "Go to sleep," Tom advised. "Bella won't hurt you again. I'll speak with her."

_Bella. _That horrible creature had a _nickname?_ "I hate her," Ginny said bitterly.

"I know."

He didn't know. He hadn't heard the way she'd taunted Ginny, the way she'd accused Ginny of actually _loving_ Tom. "She wants me dead."

"She won't touch you again. None of them will."

"She wouldn't let me call you Tom," she lamented quietly, tears coming to her eyes.

He kissed her forehead gently. She couldn't bring herself to feel repulsed. "You can call me Tom," he assured her, smiling slightly. "Sleep," he ordered, getting up from the bed.

"No," she said stubbornly. "I'll have nightmares."

"You won't have nightmares."

"I will."

He sighed. "Do you want me to stay?"

"I . . . no, of course not."

He smirked. "You don't have to lie to me, Ginevra, nor must you conceal your emotions. You're injured; you're traumatized. It's perfectly understandable. So I ask again - and no lies this time - would you like me to stay with you?"

She looked him dead in the eye. "I don't need you."

A ghost of a smile fluttered across his face. "Sleep, then. I'll wake you for dinner."

Just to spite him, she stayed wide awake all afternoon. Her head pounded relentlessly, an aftereffect of the torture, and a sharp pain in her abdomen made it difficult to sit still. Eventually, she threw back the covers and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe the elves would have healing potions.

"Hello, Miss!" squeaked an elf as she pushed open the swinging doors. "What will you be having today?"

"I need a potion," she said, squinting against the bright lights hanging from the ceiling.

"What kind of potion?" the elf asked cheerily.

"Healing."

"You'll have to talk to Basson," the elf told her. "He's in charge! I'll take you to him. Right this way!" He scurried across the kitchen to a large stove with four giant silver pots atop it. An elf in a chef's hat was perched on a stool, stirring and tasting and adding pinches of spices to the pots. "Basson!" squealed the elf at Ginny's side. "Miss Weasley has a request!"

Basson put down his spoon and bowed low before Ginny. When he looked up at her, he gasped and bit his lip. Tears filled his golf-ball-sized eyes. "Yes, Miss?" he asked in a wavering voice.

"I need, um . . . what's the matter?" Ginny asked.

"You're here to punish Basson, aren't you?"

"No. Of course not. I just needed something for my head."

"But the omelets this morning," Basson lamented. "They were not to your liking. Basson is a bad elf, yes he is, yes he is!" With a wail, he shoved his hands into the water boiling on the stove.

"Stop it!" Ginny cried. The elf's screams made her head pound. "I liked the omelets. They were delicious. I was just trying to make your master angry. They were quite good. Please stop."

Basson took his hands out of the water cautiously. "You mean, you liked Basson's cooking?"

"Yes. I did." The throbbing in her head was becoming unbearable. "Do you have a healing potion?"

"Basson doesn't," the elf said sadly. "Master will not give Basson any potion materials, not after Basson tried to bake a soufflé that would make the elves fly!" He sighed wistfully. "Bad Basson," he said softly to himself.

Ginny pressed her palms against her eyes. "Thanks anyway, I guess," she muttered, turning to leave the kitchen. The elf by her side tugged at her sleeve.

"Miss, are you well?"

"I'm fine. Just a headache."

The elf's mouth formed a little round O. "I'll call the master," he assured her, scampering away.

"No," Ginny called after him, "you don't have to . . . ." But the elf was out of hearing range before she could finish the sentence. Sighing, Ginny made her way out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs back up to her room. She threw herself onto the bed and pulled the covers over her face, blocking out the light. She began to assess her various aches. She had at least one broken rib, and probably a concussion, too. If only Basson had had a potion . . .

The door flew open, and the covers were ripped back from her head. The blinding light of the sun streaming through the window attacked Ginny's skull; she moaned and threw an arm over her face to block the abhorrent light. Tom stood at the side of her bed, looking down on her quizzically. "Really, Ginevra," he said disapprovingly. "Hiding from me under the covers now?"

"Not hiding," Ginny groaned. "Need dark."

He pointed his wand at the window, and a long shade appeared, blocking the light from the room. "I hear you've taken ill," he said, sitting on the bed.

"Headache," Ginny said as nonchalantly as she could. "You can go. I don't need help."

Tom shrugged. "I wasn't doing anything of importance." He pressed his hand against her forehead. "You feel warm." He muttered an incantation, and a goblet appeared. "Drink this," he advised, handing her the cup. "It should numb the pain."

"Oh, now you're a certified Healer?" Ginny said sarcastically, but she drained the goblet. "That's disgusting," she added. "I'll bet it's poisoned."

"Oh, yes," Tom said, rolling his eyes and motioning for her to hand the cup back. "I've saved your life - what is it now? Three times? Four? - just so I can get you in this exact position to poison you. That makes all the sense in the world."

The potion worked quickly, eliminating the ache in her head within half a minute, but the soreness in her torso didn't lessen.

"Better?" Tom asked. She shook her head.

"I think I have a broken rib," she said through gritted teeth.

Tom cursed. "I'll kill Bella," he muttered under his breath. "Where does it hurt?"

"Here," Ginny said, pointing. Tom gently pressed his fingers into her rib cage, feeling for any broken bones. "Ow!" she shrieked, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from her skin. "Bloody hell, that _hurt!_"

Tom straightened up and drew his wand. "_Episkey_," he said, and Ginny gasped as the spell pulled her rib back into place. She took several deep breaths, relishing the fact that respiring no longer brought her pain.

"Better?" Tom asked. She nodded. He put a hand on her forehead again. "Your temperature's decreased quite a bit. You will join me for dinner in two hours."

She didn't argue. It wasn't worth the effort. She just nodded and rolled over, closing her eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, pulling the covers up over her.

"I don't need you."

"I know. But do you want me?"

"You can leave if you want to. I'm fine."

"Yes, but do you want me to stay?"

"I - I don't need you."

"Ginny."

"Tom."

He sighed exasperatedly. "I'll stay until you fall asleep," he compromised.

"I don't need you."

"I know. It's just in case."

"Just in case what, I have a heart attack?"

"Just in case you change your mind," he whispered.

She was going to respond, but the potion had made her head fuzzy and she couldn't remember the retort. So she just sighed and let herself drift to sleep under the watchful eye of the man she couldn't bring herself to hate.


	8. Crucio - Pain

_7. Crucio/_Pain

Weeks passed, and Ginny eventually grew accustomed to her new life. She hardly ever saw Tom, other than at meals, and most of the time she had the house to herself. As long as she didn't do anything too conspicuous, the Death Eaters left her alone (other than Snape, who showed up everywhere she went and seemed to be studying her). She had the entire day to do whatever she pleased.

The problem, of course, was night.

During the nights, Ginny had horrible dreams. They plagued her sleep and haunted her waking hours, filling her with images of Snape crying over Dumbledore's body, of Bellatrix firing curses, of Tom holding her . . . Tom carrying her to bed . . . Tom wiping away her tears and whispering that everything was going to alright, and her believing it, and _enjoying _it . . . .  
"Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

Ginny snapped her eyes up to meet Tom's. "No," she answered matter-of-factly. "Your life is quite boring, and as much as you love to hear yourself talk, I'm afraid the sound of your voice makes me doze off."

"Funny," Tom said dryly. "I'm leaving in the morning to go to Denmark. You may choose to accompany me or stay here by - "

"Here," Ginny interrupted. "Anything else?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Careful," he warned. A shiver ran down her spine. "If you stay here, I'll have to put Death Eaters on babysitting duty."

"Why? Don't trust me?"

"Not at all."

She grinned. "Clever boy."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're in an awfully good mood this evening."

She shrugged and picked at her dinner. "What, I'm not allowed to be happy once in awhile? Forgive me, my Lord."

"Careful," he said again, real danger lurking in his tone. "Eat up, Ginny."

"I'm not hungry tonight."

"I didn't ask whether you were hungry."

She shoveled a few spoonfuls of potatoes into her mouth. "Which Death Eaters would be babysitting me?"

"Malfoy, most likely. Malfoy and Snape. Maybe Dolohov too."

"That sounds absolutely dreadful," she said cheerfully. It had been a long time since she'd feared the Death Eaters. They could growl at her and call her names, but ever since the Bellatrix incident, Tom had made it clear that they couldn't hurt her as long as she stuck to his rules. And Tom grew more lenient every day.

"Yes . . . you know, I think I'll have you come with me after all."

"Why the change of heart?"

"You could be useful."

"Useful? As what, your slave?" She stabbed a bit of meat with a fork.

"No," Tom replied, looking at her with shining eyes. He hadn't touched his food. "More like . . . bait."

She frowned. "Bait?"

"Yes . . . ." His smile made her shudder a little. "You might be just what I need to catch Potter."

She dropped her fork with a clatter. "Harry's in Denmark?" she whispered.

Tom said nothing.

She stood up so sharply her chair fell backwards. "I'm not going."

He shrugged. "Fine. I gave you the option, I suppose. I can kill the boy without you there."

Her heart thudded so hard it was physically painful. "If you kill Harry," she said slowly, "I die too."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I've had enough of the melodrama for tonight, so - "

"I'm not kidding," she said fiercely. "I don't have a wand, so I'll have to do it the muggle way, but you will return to find me dead. I'll jump off the roof. I'll drown myself in the bathtub. I'll hang myself or stab myself or have the elves bake me in the oven. I'll try to run away and let Bellatrix Lestrange torture me to death. How would that make you feel, Riddle? You've gone out of your way to save me. Somewhere deep down you must like me a little. If you came back and found me dead, it would destroy you. I'm the only one you've ever saved, aren't I? I'm the only proof that you have an ounce of humanity in you. And if I'm gone, that means the only thing you ever loved didn't return the senti - "

"_Crucio._"

She fell to the floor, writhing.

He towered over her. "You will never speak to me like that again," he said quietly, but there was an authority in the words she couldn't ignore. He nudged her with his foot as she gasped and cried. "You filthy, stupid little girl. You think I saved you because I loved you? I saved you because you could be _useful _to me. Believe me, the moment Potter is dead, you will join him." He reached down and yanked her to her feet. "Do not ever make the mistake of thinking you matter," he hissed. "Now go to bed. We leave for Denmark at dawn."

"I'm not going," she whispered, trembling under his grasp.

He wound his hand in her hair and wrenched her head back like he was going to slit her throat. "Don't defy me," he murmured in her ear. "I might lose my temper."

"I'm not afraid of you," she spat back.

He yanked her head back until she yelped. "Liar," he grinned.

"It's not a lie."

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he whispered, releasing her hair and angling her face so she was forced to look into his eyes. "Lord Voldemort knows everything. He has ways of finding out. Do not lie to him."

"I'm not lying, _Tom._" She made sure to emphasize his real name.

"Careful." His voice was barely audible. "You're skating on very thin ice."

"You can't do anything to me. I don't care if you torture me. I don't care if you kill me."

He raised an eyebrow. "I can make you regret the day you were born."

"I've regretted that day since I was eleven years old," she hissed.

They stared at each other for an eternity before Tom shoved her to the ground. "To your room," he ordered, and she went, slamming the door hard behind her.


	9. Incarcerus - Imprison

_8. Incarcerus_/Imprison

For twenty minutes she paced around the room refusing to cry. She wandered into the bathroom and ran a bath just to give herself something to do. She leaned up against the wall and watched the tub overflow, satisfaction filling her as the small act of revenge flooded the bathroom. It was his house, let him deal with the water damage. As a matter of fact - she twisted the sink taps as far as they would go and plugged up the drain. Maybe the water would flood the entire bathroom and she'd drown.

She sat in the bathroom all night, watching from the corner with shining eyes as the water slowly filled the room, creeping up toward the ceiling at an agonizingly slow pace. As dawn broke she slid, fully clothed, into the tub and tipped her head back, waiting for the water to close over her to the point where survival was impossible. It was the best option she could find. Without her, Tom would have no bait.

"Here, now - what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

A hand grasped Ginny by the front of her robes and yanked her to her feet. She glared dully into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "Flooding the bathroom?" He shook her hard. "This is how you repay the Dark Lord for all his kindness towards you? You foolish blood traitor."

"It's not against the rules," Ginny replied in a monotone. "You can't hurt me."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he shook her again. "I don't need to hurt you," he hissed in her ear. "I just need to teach you a little respect."

"I know about respect," she replied, pulling out of his hands. "I respect Dumbledore. I respect Harry Potter." Lucius pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Evanseco_." The water vanished from the room. Ginny signed heavily. "I worked on that all night, you know."

He shoved her out of the bathroom and closed the door behind them. "The Dark Lord wants you downstairs ready to leave in an hour."

"I'm not going."

"Don't test my patience, Weasley."

"What are you going to do, kill me? Be my guest. I've been trying for hours."

"There are worse things than death," he snapped. "You of all people should know that."

"Then torture me. Use every spell you know. I don't care. I'm not going anywhere with Tom Riddle."

"You will call him the Dark Lord!" Malfoy shouted. "Show some bloody respect."

"I'll call him whatever I want. You can't tell me what to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?"

"You are not my father!" she shrieked. "You are not my brother! And you are not Dumbledore! I don't have to listen to one word you say, you big stupid evil - "

"_Silencio!_"

Words became caught in her mouth, building up in the back of her throat, strangling her until she couldn't breathe and had to collapse. Malfoy caught her and hoisted her up onto the bed. "You filthy little blood traitor," he hissed. "_Incarcerus!" _Ropes shot out of his wand and wound themselves around Ginny's wrists tightly. "I once had a stallion like you, Weasley. Feisty. Wouldn't listen. Never held still long enough for me to put on its bloody bridle. They said I should kill it, but that was too easy." He shot more ropes at her ankles. "No, I wanted to break him, Weasley. I wanted to destroy his will, to show him I was the master and he needed to show me some respect."

_Stop!_ she screamed silently.

"I whipped that stallion every day for a year before he finally obeyed me. Beat the fight out of him. He had to give in. Didn't have a choice." Malfoy had his wand up again. "I can't whip you, of course. The Dark Lord forbids me from that kind of torture in your case. But I can break you, Weasley." He slashed his wand down toward her. "_Serpensortia!"_

A long, thick snake oozed out of the tip of his wand and lazily slithered over Ginny's body. It settled with its head resting against her neck and opened its mouth in a yawn, revealing a pair of six-inch fangs. Ginny tried to struggle, but the snake was heavy against her, and she could do nothing more than whip her head back and forth. Malfoy smirked.

"Don't be afraid, Weasley," he said conversationally. "Dorris won't kill you. Her poison isn't designed for that." The snake spread its jaws again and positioned its fangs against the thin skin of her throat. "But before it's over, Weasley, you'll wish you were dead."

The snake sank its long teeth into Ginny's neck, then ripped them out only to strike again. She screamed noiselessly as the venom entered her bloodstream, burning her veins and forcing her muscles to spasm uncontrollably. Her vision went blurry, then dark; hallucinations played on the insides of her eyelids, horrible images of death and doom and terror. Dementors swooped over her, sucking her breath away, and then they were replaced by dragons and chimeras, and she was on fire, set ablaze by their hot breath, and she was burning alive but she couldn't die, and the only word she could think of was agony, agony, agony . . . .

She didn't know how long the torture lasted, only that when it ended she could do little more than curl up around herself and sob. "Well," Malfoy said conversationally, flicking his wand and causing Dorris the snake to dissolve in smoke. She wanted to jump up and strangle him, but she was too heavy to move. "I suppose you're in no condition to travel. I'll tell the Dark Lord. Congratulations, Weasley. You don't have to go to Denmark after all." He slammed the door shut, locking it from the outside, and Ginny fell into a blissful state of unconsciousness.


	10. Silencio - Silence

_9. Silencio/_Silence

When she awoke from her fitful sleep, her door was still locked from the outside. She jiggled the handle, but it refused to yield. "Hello," she tried to yell, but Malfoy's silencing spell was still in effect, and she could say nothing. She slammed her palm against the door. Nobody came to let her out.

A silver platter holding a dinner roll and a stick of butter sat on a table near the door. She ripped the roll in half and put it in her mouth. It was stale; the butter was hard as a rock and impossible to cut into or spread. She set the food back on the platter and pounded on the door again, this time with her fist. Nobody came.

It was probably Tom's way of punishing her, she reasoned. Fine. She could sit in a room for a few hours. She kicked the door one last time, leaving a black mark on the bottom from her shoe, and then went about tidying her room to occupy herself. It was a trick she'd learned from Mum years ago. Cleaning had gotten her through her second year at Hogwarts, when she was convinced Sirius Black was going to break into the castle at any moment and kill her brother. It had distracted her when Dad was attacked by a snake at the Ministry. It had soothed her after Dumbledore died.

Cleaning this room proved to be an insufficient distraction. She made up the small bed in a mater of seconds. She picked up the three cloaks and dresses strewn across the floor and hung them in the closet. She stacked all the books in a neat pile on the desk, and went about dusting with a damp hand towel from the bathroom. That was all there was to do. Only fifteen minutes had passed.

She sat on the bed and let out a silent sigh of boredom. If only she had parchment with which to write her family. If only the windows in her room didn't magically repair themselves every time she broke them and tried to climb through.

Ginny waited in frustration for nightfall, when she assumed Tom would come let her out for dinner, but the door remained shut. The next morning, too, she was locked within her room. She set about making as much noise as possible (maybe he'd forgotten about her?) by kicking over furniture, throwing books against the walls, even managing to overturn the large porcelain bathtub, which cracked in half with a terrible _boom._

Nobody came.

After three days, Ginny took to staring at herself in the mirror. If she looked long enough, she could convince herself it wasn't her own reflection staring back - it was a friend, someone equally silent and equally trapped, but at least she was there. The girl in the mirror looked haunted and painfully skinny (the platter refilled itself three times a day, but the rolls were too stale for Ginny to stomach). In her head, Ginny chided the girl to eat more. _I can't_, the girl replied sullenly. _Tom hasn't given me any food. You're lucky; you at least have the bread and butter. I haven't got anything._

Ginny began to spend more and more time with her reflection. She told the girl in the mirror all about her life, about Harry and the Order and the diary from her first year at Hogwarts. When she ran out of stories, she and the girl in the mirror wondered together where Tom could be and whether he'd found Harry in Denmark.

_D'you think Tom forgot all about me? _Ginny asked one night.

_I don't think so. I don't think he'd forget you._

_Maybe Harry defeated him. Maybe that's why he hasn't been back to let me out._

The girl in the mirror frowned. _No, that's not it. Harry would have come for you._

_Harry doesn't even know where I am._

_Harry would find you._

Ginny bit her lip.

_Maybe he defeated Harry, _the girl in the mirror offered.

_Maybe._

_Maybe he's just still punishing you. You WERE awfully rude, Gin._

_He deserved it._

_Why are you so touchy about Harry Potter? _the reflection asked.

_I love him._

_No, _the girl mused, _I don't think you do. _

Ginny's eyes blazed. _I do._

The reflection shook her head. _You don't get that . . . that _look_ in your eyes when you talk about him._

_Maybe I just don't _get _that _look_, _Ginny shot back.

_You do. I've seen it. When you're talking about Tom Riddle._

Ginny threw herself toward the mirror so hard she almost slammed into it with her face. _Do not _ever _accuse me of loving Tom Riddle._

The girl in the mirror didn't back down. _You can't deny it. I know you better than you know yourself, Gin._

Ginny drew back her fist and punched the reflection. The mirror broke; shards of it pierced Ginny's skin, and she saw the girl's face smeared with her own blood.

Having alienated her only friend in this room, Ginny occupied herself by staring out the window at the ever-raging sandstorm and imagining Harry breaking through it, wand outstretched, coming to rescue her. Her knuckles, slashed apart from the blow she'd delivered to the mirror, were swollen and ugly. The dull, constant throbbing in her hand was slowly driving her mad. She threw her fist against the window just for some variation in the type of pain - the sharp smarting was a perverted kind of relief. The window repaired itself instantly. Her hand continued to bleed, and Ginny watched it calmly as the cuts dried up into scabs.

She'd lost track of how long she'd been in this room. She fell asleep when the sun was still out and awoke sometime in the night, and nothing mattered. The platter continued to refill itself, although she rarely ate, and rolls were spilling over onto the floor. Ginny sometimes built towers out of them. Eventually she began to wonder if life existed outside that door, or if Tom and Harry and the Order of the Phoenix weren't some dream she made up to occupy herself.

_Tom will let me out any day now,_ she said cheerfully to the girl in the mirror, whose face was distorted by a web of cracks.

_Maybe he won't. Maybe he's angry enough that he'll let you die in here._

_He wouldn't. He gave me food. He wants me to live._

_Are you sure you didn't just make him up?_

_I didn't. He's real._

_Gin. I'm worried about you. Look at your hand._

Ginny glanced down at her hand. _What's wrong with it? _The hand had swollen to twice its original size. The knuckles were mangled and covered in dried blood. The fingers stuck out at odd angles, as if they'd been broken, and the whole thing was a giant cloud of numb pain. Ginny bent her pinky backwards until it shrieked in protest, welcoming the sharp prickle.

_I wish you could get out, Ginny._

_I do, too. _

_I hope Tom is real, and I hope he comes for you._

_He's real, _Ginny assured the reflection.

_Look at your face when you think about him, Gin. You get so excited. You must be in love with him._

Ginny smiled shyly. _Maybe. I don't remember. _

The reflection smiled back. _Tell me about Hogwarts again._


	11. Finite Incantatem - Relieve

_10. Finite Incantatem/_Relieve

The door burst open for the first time in more days than she could count. Tom strode in, looking furious. "Ginevra."

Ginny looked up into his face and let her mouth break into a lopsided grin. He gasped. "Ginevra," he repeated. She gestured to her throat.

_I can't talk anymore. But I'm glad to see you. I may be in love with you._

"_Finite incantatem_," he said hurriedly, and she felt something unclench from around her vocal chords.

"Hullo," she said hoarsely. She had to squint against the light flooding in through the doorway. "Am I done being punished now?" Her throat felt rusty from weeks of disuse. "I'm sorry for whatever I did. I won't do it again. I promise."

Seeing the discomfort it was causing her to have the door open, he closed it and went to sit on the floor beside her. "Sweetheart," he breathed, pulling her against him. She furrowed her brow. He'd never called her Sweetheart.

"I knew you were real," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Ginny, Ginny, shh, don't talk." He pulled her tighter for a moment, then held her at arm's length and looked into her eyes, examining her carefully. "Are you okay? Do you feel ill?"

She shook her head.

"Are you _sure_."

"I'm sure."

"Nothing hurts?"

"No. Tom, I wish I'd known you were coming. I would have washed my hands."

He looked down at her mangled hand and gasped. "_Shit, _Ginny."

"I know." She cradled her hand against her chest. "I'll just go wash it. I won't be a minute." She stood up and stumbled to the bathroom. He caught her around the waist and pulled her back, setting her down on her unmade bed.

"No, Gin, let me see." He held her hand delicately. "How did this happen?"

"I hit a girl."

"You hit a girl?" He looked confused. "What girl?"

"The girl in the mirror. She's quite insolent. She deserved it."

Tom almost smirked. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes. I can fix it though." She ripped open a scab on her knuckle and let the wound ooze blood, soaking her skin. Then she pressed her mouth down to her hand, scraping the wound open with her teeth. Lips stained with blood, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "Much better."

He set her hand carefully in her lap and pulled her into his arms again. "Ginny," he began, and then changed his mind. "What else have you been up to?"

She thought for a moment. "I make towers." She gestured vaguely at the rolls on the floor. "And I look out the window and wait for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. I've been waiting for you to let me come out."

He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. "Sweetheart," he murmured.

"I was waiting and waiting," she continued dreamily. "And I thought you must be very angry with me, to lock me up for so long." She looked up at him. "Were you very angry?"

"No." He readjusted his grip on her. "I didn't know you were in here, Gin. I've been away, in Denmark, for three months. I just got back last night."

"You didn't lock my door?"

"No, sweetheart, no. It wasn't me, it wasn't me." He was rocking her back and forth. He had her wrapped up in his arms like an infant, lulling her with his voice.

"Oh." She let him hold her for awhile. "I need to go wash my hands now," she said suddenly, squirming in his embrace. He held her tightly.

"Ginny, your hand is a mess. You see that, right?"

She nodded. "I'll get off the blood for you, then you'll see I'm alright."

"No, love, no." He helped her stand. "Come with me. We're getting out of this room."

"Let me wash my hands first."

"No. You can wash them when we get to my chambers."

"I get to see your chambers?"

"Yes. You're going to stay there with me for a little while. Until I can be sure you're safe."

She drew back. "But you hate me."

"I don't hate you." He guided her to the door and out into the hallway. It was deserted.

"You said you hated me," she accused, swaying slightly on the spot. The months of so little food were beginning to catch up to her.

"I was wrong."

"I hate you?" It came out like a question.

He helped her down the stairs. "No need to be rude."

"I . . . I . . . I feel sick, Tom," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. He made a little moan in sympathy and put an arm around her shoulders. "I think I went mad in there," she confessed.

"I'll make it better," he promised softly.

Her hand was beginning to hurt, and she told him so. They were almost to his chambers.

"I'll fix it, love, I'll fix it." He picked up the knocker and let it fall. The snake shuddered to life. _"Passssssword?" _it asked.

Tom glanced into Ginny's eyes once before answering in a hiss of parseltongue. She nearly gasped as she recognized the pattern of sounds. He didn't know she could speak parseltongue too, didn't realize that when he'd possessed her she'd absorbed some of his talents.

_The password was her name._

"Come," he was saying now, half-carrying her to the large bed in the center of the room. "Lie down. Let me see your hand."

Obediently, she extended her arm so he could examine it.

"The bones in your hand have healed all wrong," he decided finally. "We have to break them all over again and set them correctly." He looked at her. "It means more pain. Just a little."

She shook her head. "Please, no."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. She wondered why he kept kissing her. "Sweet Ginevra," he murmured. "I'll find you a potion that will numb it all. You won't feel a thing. Is that better?"

She nodded. He ran a hand through her hair, which was both oiled down and wildly frizzy from the months of not washing it. "You need a bath," he said. "A nice hot bath, while I brew the potion for you. Does that sound good?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to stay for that? Do you need any help?"

"I can _do _it." The thought of him watching her bathe was horrifying.

"I won't leave the chamber, Ginny, but I'll close the bathroom door. If you need anything, I'm here. I'm right here." He bent down to kiss her forehead again. "I will not leave you again."

She smiled wanly and made her way into the bathroom. The tub was already filled with enchanted water that never cooled down. As she undressed, she caught sight of her emaciated body in the mirror and gasped. Every rib in her torso stuck out; her stomach was sunken in. She looked like a corpse, a walking skeleton. Trembling, she dipped a toe into the tub, then stepped all the way inside. Unpoppable bubbles brewed around her.

"Tom?" she called. He cracked open the door and poked his head in. "D'you have - y'know, shampoo?"

Realizing her body was covered by the bubbles, he came into the bathroom and walked over to a cabinet. "Here," he said, offering her a bottle. "Your hand - do you want help with this part?"

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain. "Yeah."

He filled his hands with shampoo and dumped it unceremoniously on Ginny's head, rubbing it in careful circles into her scalp. She tried to pretend it was Mum shampooing her. "Duck underwater," Tom ordered after a few minutes. She obeyed.

"You have to do it again," she said as he made to put the bottle away. "You have to do it twice. Or it won't get clean."

Sighing, he repeated his circular massaging until her hair was no longer oily. "Can you manage now?" he asked, dipping his hands in her bath water to wash the suds from them. The back of his hand brushed her naked shoulder for an instant. Even in the hot water, she shivered.

"Yes."

"Good. Call me if you need anything." He left, and she began to awkwardly scrub at her body with her left hand, leaving the right one to dangle uselessly outside the tub. When she was ready to get out, she wrapped herself in one of his large towels and padded back into his bedroom.

"D'you have a robe or something?" she asked timidly. He nodded and guided her back into the bathroom, then left her to change. When she was presentable, she stepped back into his chamber. "Is the potion ready?"

"Nearly." He poured a blue mixture into a goblet and set it before her. "Drink this once it's cooled down." He pulled out his want and muttered, "_Ventus_." She was nearly blown over by a blast of hot air that dried her from head to toe.

"Thanks," she mumbled, dipping her pinky into the goblet to test the potion. "It's cool." She raised the chalice to her lips and gulped the potion quickly. Immediately she began to feel fizzy.

"Is it working?"

"Yeah."

He touched her right elbow. "Can you feel this?"

"No."

He sat her down on the bed. "Look away, Ginny."

Ginny didn't feel him breaking her fingers, but she heard the sound of snapping bone and it made her wince. Tom repaired the bones with a flick of his wand.

"Are you finished?" She couldn't bear to look.

"Yes." Tom sounded sad. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"It wasn't your fault." Now that she was clean, Ginny was feeling much more like her old self. She flexed her hand experimentally.

"As soon as I find out who locked you in there, I swear I'll make them suffer."

"It was Malfoy," Ginny said quietly, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around herself. The red comforter beneath her was warm and inviting; in spite of doing nothing for three months she was exhausted, and she wondered whether she'd be allowed to sleep on this bed. "I'm sleeping in this room, right?"

"You don't have to go back to your old room, no."

She began to play with her toes. The feeling was coming back into her body. "Why do you care about me so much?" she asked in spite of herself.

"You are very important to me."

"As bait, right?"

"No, Gin."

"Liar."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "Do you know why I came back from Denmark today?"

"Why?"

"I came to check on you."

Ginny didn't say anything.

"I had a feeling something was wrong. Clearly my instincts were right. I'm going back tonight. I'm not leaving you here alone this time. I want you to come with me. I want you _safe._"

She spoke up. "You want me to come to Denmark."

"Yes."

"I'm not going. I told you before, and my answer hasn't changed."

"Ginevra," he began tiredly, but she cut him off.

"When I arrived here," she said in a low voice, "You swore that I was under your protection. You said no harm would come to me. You said you wouldn't let them - you promised me you wouldn't let them - " She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. She _wasn't. _"And then Malfoy set his snake on me. And he locked me up for three months. I went _mad. _You've broken all your promises, forgive me for wanting to stay as far away from you as possible." She sat up and made to leave his bed. He stopped her, holding her down by the shoulders.

"Don't you _touch me." _The memories of the three months in her room were coming back to her. The pains, the tears, the descent into madness. He'd promised. He'd _promised._

"I am not at fault here," he whispered. "It is you who was foolish enough to believe in a promise."

"Yes, you're right, I'm a fool. I actually thought there was an ounce of human left in you, but I guess I was a bloody idiot for believing in goodness." She reached out her hand and made to slap him; he caught her wrist just in time.

He slid his fingers between hers, interlocking their hands. "Malfoy will pay for what he's done to you."

"Oh, _really?_ Will he _really? _Well, that just makes it all better then, doesn't it?"

"Come with me to Denmark," he insisted. "Once we're away from this house, things will be better."

"Away from this house? Away from this bloody house? That's what I've wanted ever since I arrived!" she screamed.

"And now you're getting it, so don't complain."

She struggled wildly to maneuver herself out of his grasp. He pushed her back against the pillows, fingers closed tightly around her wrists, locking her arms above her head. "Just calm down," he said. "Take some deep breaths."

She did, going limp against the pillows and letting her eyes slip shut. "I'm tired," she admitted with a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob. "I don't want to do this anymore. Please just let me be done." She wasn't begging. She was too exhausted to plead with him anymore.

"Ginevra."

"I won't tell anyone where you are. You can modify my memory if you want. Just let me be done."

"You know I can't do that."

"I want my mum," she whispered, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

"Don't cry."

"I'm tired of not crying."

"We'll go to Denmark, and everything will be fine."

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"You're not staying here with Malfoy around."

"Let me go home then."

"You're safer with me than anywhere else in the world."

"I'm safer when I'm nowhere near you."

"I prom - "

"Don't promise me anything."

"Ginevra." He let go of her wrists and used a finger to catch the tears sliding down her cheeks. The other hand laced its fingers through hers. "I promise he will never touch you again. None of them will."

"You've promised things before."

"Open your eyes," he whispered, pulling her into a sitting position. "Look."

She did; a fiery snake had wound its way around her arm, binding her hand to his. She almost screamed, thinking it was Malfoy's venomous snake, back for more, but then she realized what he was doing. She tried to pull her hand away. "N - "

"I swear none of my Death Eaters will ever lay a finger or wand on you again," he whispered. The snake tightened itself around their wrists, and then evaporated into ashes. "Believe me now?"

She stared. "An Unbreakable Vow?"

"Yes."

"You can't take that back."

"I know."

"You're . . . you're serious. You're actually keeping your word on this."

He cracked a smile. "Come with me to Denmark?"

"I thought you hated me," she whispered. "Why all this effort if you hate me? Why not just kill me and be done with it?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, absently stroking his thumb across hers. "There's something about you, Ginevra Weasley," he said finally. "You're a lot like I was at your age. Rebellious. Won't take no for an answer. Able to charm people into giving you everything you want. I . . . admire it."

Chills ran down her spine. "It's not true," she managed after a moment. "I'm nothing like you."

"Ahh, but you are."

She felt tears swimming behind her eyes. "Why won't you let me go?"

He cupped her cheek in his hand. "Is it really so bad here?"

"Yes."

"How about this, then. You cooperate in Denmark, and when we come back, you're free to go."

She didn't let herself hope. "You're lying."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Make another Unbreakable Vow."

A lazy smile floated across his lips. "Now, Ginevra. Too many Unbreakables aren't healthy. You'll have to take my word for it."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you don't want to stay here with Malfoy, do you?"

Just hearing the name made her shudder. "Malfoy can't touch me. You Vowed."

"If Malfoy touches you, I will die," Tom countered. "And the vow will be broken, so Malfoy will be able to do anything he wants, and I won't be around to stop him." He tangled his fingers in her hair. "So you see, sweet Ginny, you _need_ me."

Her throat grew tight as she realized the trap she'd fallen into. "What do you want with me, Tom Riddle?"

"I want you to be happy."

"Then let me g - "

"But I want you to be happy on my terms. The world is a dark place, Gin. It's not safe out there. The safest place you can be in times like these is with a man who can protect you." He looked deep into her eyes. "I will protect you in every way I know how."

Ginny swallowed. "I want to sleep," she whispered hoarsely.

Tom shook his head. "We have to go. You can sleep when we get to Denmark."

She gave in. "How are we getting there?"

"Floo powder."

She groaned and stood up. He followed suit, taking her by the hand and leading her to his large fireplace. "I'll go first. Wait a few minutes before you follow. Don't jump out of the fireplace until you see me. And in case you try to run . . . " He aimed his wand at the door and muttered an incantation that made the lock click shut. "I've enchanted it so _alohamora_ won't work," he explained. "No one can get into or out of this room by way of the door." He stepped into the fireplace. "Madam Frieda's Inn," he announced, tossing a handful of Floo powder at his feet. An explosion of green smoke engulfed his body, and then he was gone.


	12. Avada Kedavra - Kill

_11. Avada Kedavra/_Kill

Ginny wanted so badly to crawl between the covers and go to sleep, but she took a pinch of Floo powder and flung it at the flames. "Madam Frieda's Inn," she said, and then she was being yanked through the chimney by a thousand sucking vacuums, spinning through a dizzying pathway of green fireplaces. As she flew through the network of chimneys, she realized how easy it would be to simply pull out early and be free. He'd never be able to find her. She could get ahold of a wand, change her face, start a new life, never go back . . .

And without giving herself to time to reconsider, she was grabbing at the walls, pressing her palms into the bricks to slow herself, tumbling out of the maze of fireplaces, landing on her cheek, choking on cold ashes . . .

Ginny lifted herself up, coughing and spitting to get the taste of spent firewood out of her mouth. Three people stood before her: a witch cowered behind a sofa while two wizards, one in his twenties and one in his mid-forties, were on their feet, wands pointed at her. "What are you doing?" the father asked, eying her carefully. "Who are you?"

"Please," Ginny whispered, standing slowly. The father and son kept their wands locked on her face. "Please, I need help. He'll come for me any second, he'll realize what I've done." She stumbled forward. The family recoiled. "You have to hide me," she begged. "Disguise me. Please, please, he's coming, he's coming!"

"Who?" the father asked.

"You-Know-Who."

"You led You-Know-Who to our house?" the witch shrieked.

"No, no, I didn't mean to. Please, I need a wand, I need a wand." Her courage was fading fast. Any moment now, Tom would realize what she'd done. Any moment.

"We'll hide you," the son said, not lowering his wand, "if you can prove we can trust you."

"My name is Ginevra Weasley," she said as quickly as she could. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. "My family is friends with Harry Potter. I was in my sixth year when I left Hogwarts. Tom's been keeping me prisoner, but I've escaped, and if you don't help me he'll - "

"Who's Tom?"

"Tom - You-Know-Who. You have to help me, please!" The room was spinning. Terror bubbled up inside her. He was coming, he was coming, he was coming . . . .

"She's on first-name basis with You-Know-Who," the father said. "Probably a spy."

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm not."

"We should turn her in to the Ministry!" the son exclaimed.

"Yes, please, take me there, Kingsley Shaklebolt knows me. He can tell you!"

"The Ministry's corrupt," the father insisted. "Better to just kill her ourselves."

Ginny's heart sank. "Please," she whispered, falling to her knees.

"Hiram!" the witch spoke up suddenly. "Kill her ourselves? Have you lost your _mind_?"

"Times have changed!" the father said. "We can't trust anyone anymore."

"If you kill anyone, Hiram, I'll - "

A loud swoosh from the fireplace interrupted the witch's threat, and a sharp chill washed over Ginny's body. "What," Tom Riddle hissed, "is going on here?"

The witch gasped.

"Run!_" _Ginny screamed.

"_Avada kedavra._"

The entire family fell down dead. Ginny barely held back a shriek.

"Ginevra."

"You killed them," she whispered, staring at the bodies in horror. "They didn't do anything to you!"

He didn't even glance at the family. "What did you think you were doing?" he asked coldly.

"I got c-confused," Ginny whispered, not looking up at his face. "I jumped out too early. I thought . . . "

"Don't lie to me," he said.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered.

"Don't give me a reason to," he countered.

She uttered a little sob. "You say you care about me, but then five minutes later you're torturing me and telling me I don't matter and I wish you would just kill me already so I never have to see your face again."

He knelt to her level. "I'm not going to kill you. You mean a great deal to me. I want you by my side so I can protect you from the scum of the world."

"You're the scum of the world."

"I'm talking about people like Malfoy. You're beautiful, Ginevra, and you're feisty, and a lot of men see that as a challenge. Don't you read the papers? Now more than ever, girls as pretty as you are turning up dead in alleys. It's this _chaos _the world is in. Petty thieves and murderers thrive on it. As long as Potter lives, I can never bring order to the wizarding world. When chaos is banished, everything will be safe."

"You don't want order," she spat. "You want a world where everyone worships you. It makes me _sick_, the things you want." Her eyes flicked back to the bodies on the floor. A horrible guilt washed over her. Tom had cast the killing curse, but it was her fault they'd died, she shouldn't have been there, it was all because of her. . . .

"Calm down. You've been through a lot. Just come with me to the fireplace and we'll go to Denmark. Together this time."

"We won't fit together."

"You've betrayed my trust before," was all he said. Wrapping an arm around her waist , he dug a handful of floo powder from the dead family's mantle shelf. "Madam Frieda's Inn." The passage between chimneys was tight, but they fit, and in less than a minute Tom was slowing himself down and they were tumbling into the lobby of the hotel.

"Here." Tom tossed her a key. "I got you your own room."

"Thanks," she whispered, still shaking slightly. They climbed the stairs in silence.

"Here's our floor," Tom said eventually. Their rooms were across the hall from each other. "Get some sleep," he advised. "You said you hadn't slept all night."

"As soon as you leave me alone I'll try to run again," she warned.

He sighed. "Please don't. It takes a lot of effort to find you, and if you put me in a bad mood we'll both regret it."

Her eyelids were so heavy. "I - "

"Look." He put his arms around her to hold her steady. "I know you're stubborn, and I know it goes against your nature to follow orders, but you're falling asleep in my arms. You need to rest. Please, just this once, don't fight me. We don't have to tell anyone. It can be our little secret. Okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to patronize me," she muttered, but she handed over the key so he could unlock her door and stretch her out on the bed. She was asleep before he left the room.

Images of the broken mirror floated behind her eyelids. She lashed out with her fist again and again, hitting the mirror until it was completely shattered. Dorris the snake darted out from behind the mirror and sank her fangs into Ginny's cheek. And then there were screams and cries and Malfoy's laughter and great fiery snakes winding around her wrists. She was too exhausted to break free of the nightmares. Over and over again, Malfoy's snake attacked her, and over and over again she shrieked and struggled and failed to keep it away.

She woke with a start, body trembling. Rolling out of bed, she scurried across the floor and ran out into the hallway, hesitating only slightly before she knocked on Tom's door.

It opened immediately. "Ginevra?" He was still wearing his day clothes.

"Haven't you slept at all?" she asked.

"No, not yet. I was about to. Are you alright?"

"Not really."

He frowned and opened the door wider so she could slip inside. "What's wrong?"

Tears pricked her eyes. "Do you have a spell that could stop me from dreaming?"

He closed the door behind her and motioned for her to sit on his bed. "What happened?"

"Nightmare."

"About what?"

"M-Malfoy."

He sat beside her. "It's okay," he said, taking her hands. "He won't touch you again."

She tried to nod. "Do you have the spell?"

"There is no such spell."

"Oh." She took a deep breath. "Can I sleep in here with you?" It was almost inaudible.

"Sorry?"

"Can I sleep in here?"

"Of course." He pulled back the sheets. She slid between the covers and closed her eyes. "I'm here now," he reminded her as he clicked off the light, and stretched out on the sofa. "You're safe."

When she woke screaming an hour later, he got into bed next to her and pulled her close and told her she was fine, she was alright, he was here, he would never let anything happen to her, she was perfect and safe and he'd keep the bad dreams at bay if she just stopped crying and went back to sleep.

She believed every word.


	13. Rictusempra - Laugh

_12. Rictusempra/_Tickle

Ginny found out the next morning that Tom had given the hotel staff special instructions not to let her leave the inn. Every exterior door and window underwent enchantments that alerted security if Ginny tried to open them. She'd realized this fact her first day in Denmark when she'd tried to open the window in her room to get a breath of fresh air and found herself facing three security guards on brooms with their wands trained on her.

During the days, Tom went out to partake in secret meetings with locals who may have had information about Harry, and Ginny was left alone. She busied herself waiting tables with the kitchen staff; it was easy, familiar and numbing. On many occasions she had to fight to keep herself from slipping back into her old mantra of, "Welcome to The Leaky Cauldron." It was only during the third month that she successfully retrained herself to say, "Welcome to Madam Frieda's Inn."

At night when Tom returned, they sat up in his room and complained to each other for hours. Ginny wanted to go outside, to leave Denmark, to see her family. Tom wanted her to stop whining, he'd had a hard day and he wasn't in the mood to comfort her. She'd storm off to her room, cursing at him loudly, and then end up crawling into bed beside him when the nightmares hit. She needed him, needed his warm comforting embrace and his soothing words and his promises to keep her safe, because she was _so sick_ of not feeling safe. She hated to admit it, but she was falling into the same trap she'd stumbled upon all those years ago. _She was getting too close to the Dark Lord._

"I'll be back late tonight, Gin," Tom said one morning before they'd even gotten out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I have business to attend to. You can go to bed without me. Sleep in here, if you want. I'll leave you a key."

"What kind of business?" She sat up, eyes bright, hair tangled. "Are you planning to kill someone?"

He smiled and shoved her playfully. "My whole life isn't about killing, you know."

"Could've fooled me."

He laughed a little and shoved her again.

"What's with all this pushing? What are you trying to do, throw me on the floor?" The instant she said it, she regretted it. His eyes glinted mischievously, and, so suddenly she didn't see it coming, his hands shot out and wrapped around her shoulders, pushing her toward the edge of the bed. She shrieked with laughter and hugged his arm tightly, refusing to be shaken off.

"Let go," he insisted, grinning.

"Make me!"

He freed one hand and reached for his wand on the bedside table. "_Rictusempra!_"

As the tickling charm hit Ginny, she began to laugh hysterically. "Tom - Riddle - you - cheater!" she gasped through giggle fits. "No - magic!" She was bucking and writhing, but still kept her grip. "Make it stop!" she shrieked.

"Let go of me," he countered lazily.

"Never," she gasped, tears coming to her eyes.

"I think you'll change your mind."

Sure enough, only a few minutes later Ginny was too exhausted to hang on. She lay on her back, laughing and groaning at the same time. "Fix it," she whined.

"_Finite Incantatem."_

She let out a huge sigh of relief. "That was cruel, Riddle. That was really, really cruel."

He pulled her back onto the bed. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Gin."

"You're leaving now?"

"I have to. I'll see you soon."

"I'll wait up for you."

"No, don't. I don't know what time it'll be."

She shrugged and leaned against him. "It doesn't matter. I can't sleep without you."

He smiled faintly. "I'll try to get here as soon as I can." He kissed the top of her head and got out of bed, pulling a white shirt over his head. She stayed under the covers, staring at the ceiling.

"When do you think I can go home?" she asked suddenly.

He sighed. "Gin, don't do this right now."

"You always say that."

"I have other things to worry about."

"Fine," she said.

"Try to sleep without me," he insisted. "I'm getting worried about you. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine." The visual effects of her imprisonment were all but gone. She was eating again. Her eyes had lost their haunted look. Even her hand was working perfectly.

"I hope so. I'll see you tonight."

"Bye," Ginny mumbled as he left the room. She flung herself back down among the pillows, groaning as she pulled the comforter over her face. She didn't feel like waiting tables today. She didn't feel like doing anything. She wished she had something to read. "_Accio_ novel?" she tried, but without her wand it was useless. Sighing, she threw the covers off herself and went downstairs in her dressing gown.

"Mrs. Riddle," the receptionist said with a nod. Ginny nodded back with a faint smile. Tom had checked them into the hotel as a married couple; with his new face, nobody recognized him as Lord Voldemort, so he was free to use his real name. She, on the other hand, was still officially considered missing, and using her given name would cause trouble. So for the past three months she'd been Mrs. Riddle, the wife of a mysterious dark-haired wizard who wouldn't let her leave the hotel.

"Hullo, Madam Frieda," Ginny said glumly.

"Here to work some more?"

"Not today. I was wondering if you had some time to - to talk."

Madam Frieda raised an eyebrow. "To talk?"

"Yeah. Just . . . yeah. I need to talk to someone."

Madam Frieda was at a loss for words. "You want to talk to me?" she said finally.

"Yes."

"About what?"

"I dunno. Anything."

"Um . . . well . . . how did you sleep?"

Ginny sighed. "Not well. I've been having nightmares."

"Oh." She glanced around awkwardly. "Nightmares about what?"

"There's a snake attacking me."

"A snake?" Madam Frieda was trying hard to look interested. "What kind?"

"I dunno. A big one?"

"Oh."

"Yeah." Ginny traced spirals into the desk with her fingertips. "Do you know what Tom does all day?" she asked suddenly.

"Who?"

"Mr. Riddle. My husband. Did he ever tell you where he was going?"

Madam Frieda bit her lip. "No, Ma'am. He's never said a word."

"Oh."

"But . . . " She looked around carefully. "I know where he goes."

Ginny leaned forward. "How?"

"I have a cousin, Evangeline." Madam Frieda lowered her voice to a whisper. "_She's a squib. _Married a muggle and everything. The family disowned her, of course, but I let her come 'round here sometimes when I need help tidying rooms. She needs the money, poor thing." Madam Frieda shook her head sadly. "Anyway, Evie's husband works at a graveyard. He digs the graves, you know, for muggles. And Evie likes to go home and check on him around lunchtime. Lately, though, she says he's made a friend. Every day when she goes home, she sees him chatting with a stranger. She recognized him from the inn here. It's your Mr. Riddle."

"Tom goes to a graveyard?"

"Yes, ma'am. Nearly every day, Evie says."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "And what does he do there?"

"Talks to the husband, mostly. They've gotten to be great friends."

Ginny shook her head. "Tom doesn't really have friends," she said quietly. "He's up to something."

Madam Frieda shrugged. "Evie's coming 'round for a bit tomorrow. You could talk to her then, if you'd like."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that, thanks." She started for the kitchen. "I think I'll work today, after all," she said over her shoulder. "I could use a distraction."

* * *

When night fell, Ginny let herself into Tom's room and collapsed onto his bed. It was cold tonight, and even beneath piles of downy quilts, she couldn't stop shivering. She wondered where Tom was. Did he really spend all his time in a graveyard with a muggle? Was he still there now? She closed her eyes. Visions of Malfoy's snake danced behind her eyelids.

She sat up and squinted at the clock on the wall. Eleven forty-five. He was usually back by ten. Groaning, she wound one of the quilts around herself and padded downstairs to the kitchen. It was deserted. She poured a cup of hot cocoa and made her way out to the receptionist's desk. Empty. The ticking of the large grandfather clock echoed. It was unsettling to be so alone, she thought. Even Tom was better company than an empty room.

There was a roaring fire going in the lobby. The heat eased Ginny's shivering. She went to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, clutching her cocoa and pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. It was just past midnight, and the warmth of the flames made her drowsy, but she couldn't sleep, not yet, not until he came back.

At one-thirty the loud _crack _of someone apparating made Ginny jump. "Tom?" she whispered, squinting up at the figure.

"Ginevra?" He stowed his wand in his pocket. "What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep." She stood, leaving her empty mug on the floor.

"It's bloody freezing out there." Tom shrugged out of his jacket and went to stand in front of the fire. "You should be in bed."

"I couldn't fall asleep," she repeated softly.

"You haven't been getting enough rest," he said just as softly, looking at her. "You're going to make yourself ill."

"It's the nightmares," she whispered, sitting back down on the floor. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. "They won't stop."

He sat beside her, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. "What are they about?"

She gazed into the fire. "Malfoy."

"What does he do?"

"Why?"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed exasperatedly. "I don't know, Ginevra, maybe if you talk about it, they'll stop. Worth a try. Nothing else seems to help."

She hugged her knees to her chest. "Malfoy comes to my room and says I'm to come with him downstairs," she began. "He says it's urgent. And I never want to go with him, so I struggle. He hits me. He pulls me down the stairs to the kitchen." Her voice was steady. "He ties me up, and he summons that snake, and he tells me he's going to break me. And you're standing there - " She swallowed hard. "And you don't help me. You never help me, even though I'm screaming for you, you just watch while he - he - "

Tom put a cold finger under her chin and angled her face toward his. "Ginny," he murmured.

"You never help me," she whispered brokenly.

"Shh, love, shhh." He pulled her into his arms, blanket and all, and rocked her back and forth. "You know," he murmured, "that I will never let Malfoy touch you again." She nodded. "I wish I had a spell. I wish I could make the dreams go away. Ginny, I wish I could do something, anything."

"Just don't leave." It sounded so desperate that Ginny was disgusted with herself. "When I wake up alone, that's what frightens me the most."

"I'll stay with you every night." He kissed her forehead gently. "I won't be out this late again. I promise. Are you ready to sleep?" She shook her head. "You need to sleep."

"I don't want to dream."

"I'll be right here."

"You should scare me most of all," she murmured, letting her eyelids slide shut. "You shouldn't be the one comforting me. Why are you changing?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure by morning I'll be back to normal," he teased, poking her side. She giggled and squirmed in his arms. The shivering from before was gone.

"What happened out there?" She gestured vaguely at the door.

"Don't concern yourself with it."

"Where did you go?"

"Go to sleep, Ginevra."

"Harry will come for me," she reminded him, as she did every night. "He's coming to save me. And I don't care how many nightmares you fight off, I'm still leaving with him when he gets here."

"Yes, I'm sure you are. Go to sleep."

"I don't want to."

"I'm right here. I'll wake you if you start to dream."

"No you won't," she muttered as she started to drift. "You'll sit there and laugh at me. As revenge. Because I like Harry better than you."

"Oh, you caught me," he whispered sarcastically. He gently moved her up out of his arms and helped her to her feet. "Ready to go up?"

Ginny groaned. "We could stay down here," she suggested.

He smiled a little and scooped her up into his arms. "We're not staying down here." He carried her up to his room and laid her out on the bed. She buried herself beneath the covers and curled up into a ball.

"You'll wake me?" she whispered as he lay down beside her. "If I dream?"

He nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Go to sleep. I'm here. No one will touch you." He pressed a kiss into her forehead, and that was the last thing she knew.


	14. Petrificus Totalus - Paralyze

13. _Petrificus Totalus/_Paralyze

"So where do you go?"

"I'm getting tired of this game, Ginny."

"Then just answer the question."

"It's none of your business."

"I don't care, I want to know."

Tom groaned and shoveled a bite of egg into his mouth. "I go out," he said with his mouth full.

Ginny tipped back in her chair just because she knew it bothered him. She hadn't touched her food. "Where, though?"

"Put your chair down."

She leaned back even farther. "Tell me where you go."

"You're going to make me angry."

She let her chair fall forward with a bang. "So you're not going to tell me?"

"No."

"That's all right." She began to poke at her breakfast. "I already know, anyway."

He looked amused. "Oh, do you?"

She nodded.

"Do tell."

"Why? You know where you go."

He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and rose from the table. "I'll see you tonight."

"Have fun at you-know-where!" she sang, and he laughed a little and sauntered from the restaurant. Ginny gathered his dishes and brought them into the back room. "Stupid prick," she muttered, dropping the plates into the sink.

"Mrs. Riddle!" Ginny turned her head to see Madam Frieda waving her over. She abandoned her dishes and crossed to the front counter. "This is my cousin, Evangeline. The one I was telling you about."

Evangeline gave her a half-smile. Her white hair was pulled back into a frizzy ponytail, and her small frame was covered in a large sweater that must have started out white but was now a shabby grey. She looked exhausted. "Oh, dear, Frieda, what are you telling people about me?"

"Mrs. Riddle was wondering about your husband," Madam Frieda prompted.

"Billy? What about him?"

Ginny stepped in. "Erm . . . he's friends with Tom, apparently? Tom Riddle? My . . . my husband? And I was just wondering . . . how that happened. Tom's usually not very social," she added.

Evangeline shrugged. "I guess Billy and Tom, they knew each other from the orphanage."

"And they were friends?"

Evangeline laughed. "Not to hear Billy tell it! Tom was quite the little terror back then. Killed Billy's pet rabbit once. But Tom's grown up, and he's quite civil now. And he looks _good_, considering how much time's gone by. He could pass for thirty." She lowered her voice. "I suspect there's magic involved there?"

"Yeah, some magic," Ginny said distractedly. "So I hear your Billy works at a graveyard?"

"Yeah, it's the only job he could get, what with his health the way it is. All he has to do is sit on a porch and ring the police if anyone tries to dig anyone up." Evangeline raked a hand through her hair. "It's been nice for him to have some company."

"Right." The wheels in Ginny's brain were spinning. "Do you know if anyone . . . special . . . is buried in his graveyard?"

Evangeline pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling. "A few mayors," she said finally. "Nobody too important."

"No," Ginny said, trying not to lose her patience. "I meant _wizards_."

"Oh." Evie shrugged. "Not sure about that. I've been out of touch with the wizarding community for a long time. Is Nobby Leach still the Minister of Magic?"

"No," Ginny said distractedly, "it's Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Well, you're welcome to come by some time and look for yourself," Evie offered. "Are you busy now? I can take you. It'll be a nice surprise for Billy to see me."

"Mrs. Riddle can't leave the inn," Madam Frieda interjected.

Ginny sighed in frustration. "Tom is a little overprotective of me," she explained to Evie as lightly as she could. "He set up a spell to keep me inside. If I set one foot outside that door, an alarm will go off."

_"_I think that's sweet," Evie cooed. "He wants to make sure you're safe in here."

"Something like that," Ginny muttered.

"Well, are there any wizards you had in mind?" Evangeline asked. "I can go look and report back to you."

Ginny shrugged. "There's no one in particular, I suppose. I'd know it when I saw it."

Madam Frieda cleared her throat and beckoned to Ginny. "I'm not supposed to tell you this," she muttered when Ginny leaned in, "but as long as someone else opens the door, you're free to go. The spell can only detect your fingerprints. It can't tell if you're coming or going, only if you're the one opening the door."

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Madam Frieda nodded. "Don't abuse it," she warned. "I just . . . you look like you need some fresh air."

"Thank you," Ginny said, giving Madam's hand a squeeze.

"So you can go now?" Evangeline asked, and Ginny nodded, beaming. "Before we leave, do you have any food in the back? Billy gets so hungry on these long shifts. . . ."

Ginny led Evie into the restaurant and showed her the pantry. She carefully selected an apple and stowed it in her pocket. "Aren't you going to bring something for Tom?" Evie asked, and Ginny, trying not to show her frustration with how much this was slowing them down, picked up an apple and shoved it in her coat.

Finally Evangeline opened the door, and Ginny stepped out into the world for the first time in months. She'd forgotten how sharp winter air could taste, and the _crunch _of the snow when she stepped into it, the way her breath fogged up in front of her mouth when she exhaled. "How far is this graveyard, then?" she asked.

Evie pointed down the road. "Two miles," she said. "We can take a cab, if you want, but you seem . . . . eager to walk."

Ginny was already skipping away. "I don't mind walking!" she called over her shoulder. She was keenly aware of how free she was out here. She could run away, if she wanted to. Find the nearest wizarding family, get ahold of their floo powder, and go somewhere far away from here. Be free. He wouldn't be able to find her. She wouldn't be able to go home, of course, or back to the Leaky Cauldron, but maybe somewhere else, somewhere she'd never been before, like America or Russia, somewhere he'd never think to look. She could search for Harry.

"Mrs. Riddle!" Evie called. "Slow down! I can't keep up!"

But if she ran, who would she hurt? Tom would check her home, she knew. He'd torture her family. And he knew where the Order's headquarters were. He could easily ambush her friends. And on top of that, she didn't have any money, or even a wand. There was no way she'd make it without money or a wand.

"Mrs. Riddle!" Evangeline had caught up to her. "You're certainly fast, aren't you?"

She'd have to wait, then. Wait until she could find some money or steal a wand, and then run. The loophole around the alarm system wasn't going anywhere. She had time. This wasn't her only chance. "How much farther, would you say?" she asked.

Evie pointed. "Just around that bend."

"And you think Tom will be there?"

"He comes every day."

Ginny forced herself not to run ahead of Evangeline as they rounded the corner and the graveyard came into view. She saw Tom before he saw her, sitting in a rocking chair next to a much older man. She gripped her apple and started up the porch steps just behind Evangeline.

"Evie!" the old man said, a grin breaking across his face. He was bundled tightly in heavy blankets. "What're you doing here? It's much too cold for you."

Tom caught Ginny's eye and glared at her. He wasn't covered in any blankets. Ginny wondered whether he was even capable of feeling cold.

"Hi, Billy," Evangeline laughed, offering him the apple. "I just came down to say hello. And I brought Tom's wife!"

"So good to meet you!" Billy said, nodding in her direction.

"Yes, what a surprise," Tom said evenly. He stood and opened his arms. She walked reluctantly into his embrace. "How did you get out?" he hissed in her ear. She shivered and broke away from him.

"I brought you some lunch," she said with false cheer, offering him the apple. "We thought you might be hungry."

"How generous of you two!" Billy said.

Tom took the apple, still glaring at her. His eyes were dark. "Thank you," he said coldly

"You're welcome!" Ginny said, smiling as widely as she could. "So this is where you go all day!"

"Yes," Tom said. "I come talk to my old friend. See? You had no reason to be so suspicious."

"So, Billy," Ginny said quickly. "Is anyone important buried here?"

"Oh, yes," Billy said, struggling to free an arm from his cocoon of blankets. "Lord Mayor Hansen and his family have a little plot in the back. It's just over there."

"I'd love to go see it," Ginny said, starting down the porch steps. Tom moved to follow her.

"I'll accompany you," he said, grabbing her arm. He led her a few paces until they were out of earshot of the porch. "What do you think you're _doing?_" he snarled quietly, shaking her.

"You wouldn't tell me where you go all day," she answered, admiring the headstones. "So tell me the truth, is one of these graves actually a portkey to some evil headquarters of yours? Or are you really just spending your days with a _muggle?_" She felt him reach for his wand. "They can still see us," she reminded him quickly, and he returned his hand to his side and instead tightened his grip on her upper arm.

"How did you get out of the inn?" he asked as she squirmed.

"I asked very nicely."

He growled low in his throat. "Tonight I'm taking you back to London," he said. "You will stay in your room. You will be guarded by Death Eaters day and night. See what happens when you try to ask _them _nicely."

"You made me an unbreakable vow," she reminded him.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to kill you myself," he hissed.

"Did you find the plot?" Billy called from the porch.

"Not yet," Ginny yelled back. She bent down, dragging Tom with her, to read names engraved in various tombstones. "Look, I shouldn't have left," she told him. "I know you didn't want me to. But look. I didn't run. I could have escaped, but I'm still here. I came right to you. Doesn't that prove you can trust me?"

"It proves you think you can get me to let my guard down. It's not going to work."

Ginny sighed and wrenched her arm out of his grip. He made to grab her again, but she held up her hands in surrender. "You're hurting me," she said. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd be an idiot to try. Calm down."

He ignored her and wrapped his hand around her wrist. She rolled her eyes but went back to reading gravestones. Most of them were in languages she couldn't read, but once in awhile she found an English inscription: Alexander Barnes, Loving Father and Husband . . . Violet Fairchild, Taken Too Soon . . . Edward Mason, Loved and Remembered Always. . . .

Ginny's knees gave out. She hit the ground, sinking into the snow. Tom was yanked along with her. "What the - " he began angrily, and then he saw what she was looking at.

_Harry James Potter,_ the stone read, _Rest In Peace._

There was nothing else, no epitaph about his family or his fame. Just six words and a date, but Ginny couldn't stop scanning the stone for anything she might have missed. A secret message saying he loved her, perhaps, or a hint that he was still alive, that this was just a ploy, just a trick to throw Voldemort off his trail. . . .

"It's a common name," she whispered finally. Tears stung the back of her throat. "It's a very common name."

Tom let go of her wrist and stood up. He didn't say anything.

"It's a common name," Ginny said again. She felt very cold. It had nothing to do with the snow.

"Ginevra." Tom touched her shoulder lightly. The anger was gone from his voice. She jumped at the contact and craned her neck around to look up at him. Her eyes were wide.

"Let's go back to the inn," he said hurriedly. "You're going to get sick, kneeling in the snow like this."

She didn't say anything, but she let him hoist her to her feet and lead her out of the cemetery. He walked her out of sight of Billy and Evangeline before he wrapped her in his arms and apparated them back to the lobby of the hotel.

"Mr. Riddle!" Madam Frieda said, surprised. "Back so soon!"

Tom ignored her, just helped Ginny up the stairs to her room. She sat on the bed, eyes blank, not moving. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Is it him?" she said dully. "Is it my Harry?"

"I don't know," Tom said.

"Are you lying?"

"No, Ginny, of course not."

She held out her hand. "Prove it."

He sighed. "I told you before, Unbreakable Vows are unhealthy."

"I don't care about your _health_." Her voice cracked. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm having a breakdown." Her voice rose higher in pitch until it was almost a squeak. "This isn't something you can just mess around with!"

"Okay! Okay." He gripped her hand and waved his wand in a complicated pattern above their clasped fingers. "I swear to tell you the truth about the matter of the grave of Harry Potter," he said.

"Not just the grave," she interrupted. "Tell me the truth about _everything_."

"No." He finished the spell and broke their hands apart. "Only the grave."

She fell back into the pillows and began to moan. A stream of curse words left her mouth. Her hands went into her hair and began to tear at it.

"Stop that," Tom warned, but she didn't, she couldn't. "_Petrificus totalus,_" he said easily, and she was almost grateful as she felt her body tense up. "I will tell you the truth about that gravestone," he promised. "Ginny, I don't know if it's your Harry. I've been trying for months to dig up the grave and find out, but the muggle is always watching." Warily, he took the spell off her, and she let her limbs relax. "Do you feel better now?"

She shook her head. "I need to know," she said desperately. "It's going to drive me mad."

"I'm trying to find out."

"Just . . . just kill the muggle!" she cried.

He looked startled. "Kill Billy Stubbs? That doesn't sound like you, Gin."

"No, but it sounds like you. I don't understand why you haven't done it already."

"I've known Billy all my life," Tom explained, sounding a little wounded. "I knew him before I went to Hogwarts. I used to torment him with magic. Gave him chicken pox twice."

"I don't care about your personal history," she said. "Just get rid of him. You hate muggles anyway."

"I don't hate muggles," he corrected. "I think they're horribly ignorant, but I don't just kill them for no reason. Everything I do is for the greater good."

"Then maybe I can distract him," she said wildly. "I can talk to him, or invite him back to the inn for coffee, and you'll offer to watch the graveyard, and then you can find out."

Tom pressed his lips together into a thin line but offered no comment. She rolled over to press her face into the pillow and let out a muffled scream. "Stop that," he said, rolling her back over. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I need a calming draught," she said, wringing her hands. "Bring me a calming draught. Please."

"Where - "

"In the kitchen," she said. "Ask Madam Frieda."

He stood, looking uncertain. "Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head.

"Will you be okay if I leave you alone?"

She didn't know. "Yes."

"Okay." He didn't look convinced, but he opened the door anyway. "I'll be back as fast as I can."

Ginny lay back into the pillows and tried to breathe deeply. It was just a dream, she decided. All of this was nothing more than a dream, and she was going to wake up soon in her own bed at the Burrow, and all of this would be a distant memory. _Deep breaths, Gin,_ she reminded herself, closing her eyes. _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in._

"Harry," she whispered aloud, her voice catching on a sob. "Please don't be dead."

_Stop it, Ginny. Just shut up and breathe. In. Out. In. Out._

A noise at the window made her jump. She opened her eyes and sat up just in time to see her window sliding open from the outside and a glowing white shape leap inside. She squinted hard against the glow and was barely able to make out the outline of a very familiar animal. "No," she whispered, standing up shakily and approaching the window. "It can't be you. . . ."

"Ginny Weasley," the stag-shaped patronus said. "Follow me. I'm going to take you to Harry Potter." It turned and bounded out the window, leaving behind nothing but the ringing echo of the voice Ginny thought she would never hear again.


	15. Expecto Patronum - Hope

14. _Expecto Patronum/_Hope

She stood in a silent trance for ten seconds, staring out the window after the patronus. Then she caught back up to reality and let out an unearthly scream. "Tom!" she shrieked, stumbling backward away from the window. Her vision was blurry. She was hyperventilating. She couldn't _breathe. . . ._

He burst through the door so hard it flew off its hinges. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing into her own arms. "Ginny, Ginny, oh, God, Ginny." He reached for her hands and squeezed tightly. "What - you're _shaking._" She was rocking back and forth. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's fine. I brought your calming draught. You're going to be okay. I can fix it. Don't cry, don't cry."

"Tom," she cried. "He was here."

"Who?"

"Harry."

"Potter?" Tom let go of her hand as if he'd been burned. Ginny moaned.

"He's alive?" Tom whispered.

She didn't answer. She didn't need to.

"What did he do?"

"He asked me to come."

"And you said . . . ?"

"Obviously I didn't go."

He wouldn't look at her. "Why?"

"It wasn't because of you."

He slid down to sit beside her and pressed a palm to her cheek, tangling his fingers in her hair. "You're shaking."

"Sorry."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not. Tom, I need - "

"Ginny."

"I'm not!" Her breaths came uneven gasps.

He remembered the calming draught. He pressed it into her hands and helped her sip. "Calm down. It's okay. Just breathe." He waited until her hyperventilation ceased. "I'm very glad you stayed."

She pulled her arms around herself and said something so quietly that he couldn't hear it and had to ask her to repeat herself. "Don't go after him."

"Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Ginny. You know I have to."

"Don't. Please."

"Sweetheart, it has to be done."

"I'll do anything. I'll stay here forever. I'll never try to run again."

"Ginny, you're being ridiculous."

"I'll stay with you forever."

"Ginny."

"I promise!"

"_Ginny._"

She met his eye for the first time. "Y-you keep saying my name."

Then his mouth was over hers, his lips moving with a kind of urgency he himself hadn't been aware he was capable of until now. He felt her recoil a little at the contact, but then she was kissing him back with an aggressiveness that he could only describe as _hunger._ He wound his hands in her hair, pulling her off the wall and into him, inhaling her for the first time in so many years . . . he hadn't realized how much he'd _missed _it. . . .

Suddenly she pulled back, eyes shining. "I don't love you," she reminded him. He put his fingers against her neck, thumbs pressing against the bottom of her jaw, firmly tipping her head back. He bent down to kiss her nose, and then trailed his lips down to meet her mouth. She moaned, letting her eyes close as he tangled himself in her hair again.

"I don't _love _you," she said breathlessly.

"I never asked you to," he murmured. His arms went around her back, and then he was lifting her up onto the bed, still with his lips working against hers. She moaned a little as he moved to her jawbone and then kissed down the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Tom," she gasped. He moved to her collarbone, sucking and nipping, making her shiver. "Wait. . . ." He had his hands in her hair. "Stop!" She shoved him away.

His eyes were dark. "You don't tell me what to do," he said in a low, angry voice. "It's the other way around, actually. You seem to have forgotten that lately."

She was crying. "I love him," she said. "I love him."

"You don't love him."

She wanted to scream. The calming draught clearly hadn't worked, or if it had, it was wearing off quickly. "Of course I do!"

"Do not _lie _to me!"

"Don't pretend you know anything about love," she fired back.

He was laughing, and she hated him for it. "If you loved Potter, you would have gone with him," he accused. "But you didn't. You stayed. You're here."

She didn't have a comeback. She hated herself for that. "There are alarms on the windows," she said lamely.

He raked his hand through his dark hair and sighed. "Come back to my room," he said in a gentler voice. "You'll feel better in the morning. We can pretend none of this happened, if you want."

"I love him," she said, but she didn't sound sure of herself anymore.

He looked at her almost pityingly. "We both know that isn't true."

She closed her eyes. "He's my brother's best friend," she said helplessly. "He's the Boy Who Lived. And I . . . I don't know . . . I was starstruck. The first time we k-kissed, I just . . . he's not someone you can walk away from."

"But you wanted to walk away," he confirmed quietly. She didn't say anything. "There was another, wasn't there."

She opened her eyes. They were blazing. "There was no other."

"Of course there was." He wouldn't look at her. "I know you better than you know yourself. I've been inside your mind, remember?"

"I didn't love _you_, if that's what you're implying."

He shook his head. "Lying to me is one thing, Ginevra, but lying to yourself?"

She let her head fall into her hands. "Please go away," she whispered.

She heard him sigh as he stood. "I'll leave my door unlocked," he said. She thought he was gone until she heard, "You don't have to be ashamed, you know."

She didn't raise her head, and he finally closed the door and left her alone. A freezing wind blew through the room and made her shiver; she looked up to see the window was still open. Biting her lip hard, Ginny wrapped the comforter around her shoulders and slipped on her shoes. Hesitantly, she touched the windowsill, making sure she avoided the panes of glass that could detect her fingerprints. The alarm stayed silent. Nobody came to stop her.

Ginny heaved herself through the window and immediately plummeted two stories to the ground. She landed hard on her back in a snowdrift, biting down on her tongue to force herself not to cry out. She gently tested all her limbs, and, finding none of them broken, got to her feet and took a deep breath. "Harry?" she whispered. "Erm . . . Harry's patronus?"

She caught sight of a shimmering glow at the edge of the forest. She followed the stag through the maze of trees, stumbling over tree roots and boulders. Once she nearly lost sight of it altogether. "Wait," she begged, panting, and it paused to let her catch up. She followed it for what felt like hours, holding the comforter tightly against herself to block out the chilling winter wind.

Finally the stag led her out of the wood and into the graveyard. It wove through the tombstones and stopped in front of Harry Potter's grave, pawing the ground silently. "Here?" Ginny whispered, staring at the patronus. It bobbed its head. "Harry? Are you there?"

"I'm here, Ginny."

She whipped her head around, a smile forming on her face, and then she bit back a scream. "Is that you?" she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

Harry nodded. "It's me," he said softly, reaching out a hand toward her. She tried to take it, but her hand fell straight through him.

"You're a ghost," she accused.

He nodded. "I am."

Her body felt hollow. "You died."

He smiled a little. "But I'm here."

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I wish I could hug you," she whispered.

His smiled sadly. "So do I."

"You never came to London," she accused. "You should have come back."

"I tried," he insisted. "I went to Grimmould Place, but nobody was there. I checked the Burrow, and you and Ron were gone. I even went to Hogwarts." He took off his ghostly glasses and sighed. "It's ruined, Gin. It's just Death Eaters. It's not our Hogwarts anymore."

"I know," she said. "It's horrible."

"And I know I failed you," he started, "I know I failed the Order, but - "

"You didn't fail anyone," she said fiercely. "Whatever happened to you, it wasn't your fault. I'm sure it wasn't."

"I'm sorry either way," he whispered.

She sat down in the snow in front of his gravestone. The patronus had disappeared. "How long ago?" she asked quietly

He sat down next to her. "A year."

"And how . . . how did you. . . ."

"It was one of his horcruxes," Harry said, rescuing her from having to say the words. "I found it back at the Ministry, when Ron and Hermione were still with me, but I couldn't destroy it. I needed a goblin-made sword," he explained in answer to her questioning expression, "and I didn't have the sword of Gryffindor anymore. So I came here. Denmark. There are goblins here, according to Hermione."

"So you found a new sword," Ginny guessed.

The ghost nodded. "I did. But horcruxes, they're tricky. They're like living things, and they aren't easy to kill. They prey on your weaknesses. In the end, I couldn't stab it. I just . . . I couldn't. And it killed me."

Ginny was silent for a moment. "What happens when you die?" she whispered.

Harry shrugged. "Everything from my life is so foggy now. It was a little like falling asleep. I couldn't put my finger on exactly when I stopped breathing. And then I had to choose whether to go on, or stay here."

"Why did you stay?"

He shrugged again. "I know I'll regret it later," he said. "There are so many people I'll never see again." Ginny heard his voice catch. "Sirius," he whispered. "My mum, my dad. Moody. Dumbledore." He looked at her. "Ron and Hermione, eventually." He didn't say her name. She could tell he was thinking it. "But I have a duty here. I have to stop him. It was in the prophecy. So I came back."

She wanted so badly to hug him. "Will you live at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Not if it's run by Death Eaters."

"But it won't be," she insisted. "Not once You-Know-Who is gone."

"You call him You-Know-Who now?"

She didn't understand. "I always have."

Harry stood and put a hand on his tombstone. "I heard you use a different name earlier."

Her cheeks reddened. "What, Tom?"

"Yeah." He looked down at her. "What have _you_ been up to in the past year, Ginny?"

She rose to face him. "What are you implying?" she asked fiercely. "You think I'm living with You-Know-Who by choice? You think I'd betray everyone I love like that? I was bloody _kidnapped_."

He looked surprised. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, and she regretted yelling at him.

"I'm stuck, Harry," she whispered. "I can't get away from him, I've tried. I don't have a wand, I don't have money, I don't have a place to go. And I kept hoping you'd come barging into his trap and try to save me, like you always do," she admitted with a little laugh, "but now I know you can't."

"I'm sorry," he said again, touching his ghostly hand to her cheek. She shivered at the contact, and he pulled back.

Ginny bunched her comforter up into a ball and sat on it to keep herself off the snow. She put her fingertips to the headstone in front of her, gently tracing each letter in his name. Harry watched for a few minutes, and then turned and floated away toward the forest. She wanted to call out for him, to beg him to come back, but something in her throat stuck. So she sat in silence, shivering and tracing his name over and over, until the sun rose and Tom finally found her.


	16. Incendio - Flame

_15_. _Incendio/_Flame

Tom pointed his wand at the empty fireplace in Billy Stubb's house. "_Incendio,_" he muttered. Bright blue flames leapt to life, warming Ginny's numb hands and face. "_Flagration," _he said, aiming at the comforter she'd left in a heap on the floor. A jet of steam issued from his wand. He wrapped it around her shoulders, and she gasped at the welcome heat.

Billy opened the door and toddled inside. "Is she okay, Tom?" he asked, looking at Ginny pityingly. She barely noticed. She gazed at the flames, deep in thought.

Tom nodded stiffly. "She'll be fine."

"What has her so spooked?"

Tom shrugged.

Billy seemed to notice the unusual fire for the first time. "Blue flames, huh," he remarked. "How about that. I swear I'll never get used to this magic business."

"You won't have to," Tom said. "My wife and I are leaving Denmark today. We're going home for awhile."

Ginny finally broke out of her trance and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Billy was saying. "But I suppose all vacations must come to an end."

"Yes."

Billy wandered out of the doorframe, and Tom gently closed the door. "So it was your Harry after all," he said.

She didn't reply. She hadn't said anything to him since he found her in the graveyard.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Anything?"

She didn't move.

"I want you to eat."

Nothing.

"Talk," he commanded. "I'll find out what you aren't saying either way."

She gazed into the fire again. "I don't feel well."

"You're ill?"

"No. I just don't feel right inside."

"You're in shock."

She shook her head, finally looking him in the eye. "Bring him back," she whispered. "I just want him back."

Tom offered her a piece of toast. "Eat."

"I can't. I'm not hungry. Please bring Harry back."

"You know I can't. Stop being stupid. Eat."

She took the toast from him and threw it into the blue flames. "I want him back."

"_Crucio._"

Every nerve in her body stung like it had been shocked. She craned her neck back and screamed.

He stopped the torture after only a few seconds. "Eat."

Panting, she shook her head.

Billy barged through the door. "Everything all right in here?" he asked.

"Fine," Tom said evenly. "She's making progress, I think."

Billy looked at her breathless form on the floor. "Poor thing," he said. "Feel better, Ginevra." He ducked out, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Are you going to listen to me?" Tom asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Or do you need another dose of that pain?"

"Do it again," Ginny hissed, glaring up at him. "Go on. Do it again."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "_Crucio,_" he said, and she arched her back and dug her nails into the floor. He let the curse linger for five endless seconds before lifting his wand away from her.

In spite of the pain, Ginny came up laughing. "Come on," she goaded. "Is that the best you have?"

Tom heaved a sigh. "What are you doing," he said flatly.

"Hit me again!" she cried, cackling madly. "I could barely feel it."

"_Crucio._"

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Again!"

"_Crucio!_"

She couldn't hold in a scream. "More," she panted when he let her come up for air.

He bent down and touched her cheek gently. She flinched away from him. "You don't need any more," he decided.

"I want it," she spat. She couldn't stop shaking.

Tom set his wand on the table and crouched to meet her eye level. "Stop this," he ordered. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh, come on, Tommy, what's changed?" Ginny said wildly. "Why don't you want to hurt me? You never had a problem with it before!" She reached out and slapped his cheek as hard as she could. He flinched. "Come on, fight back!" She hit him again, tears flowing freely from her eyes. "You know something, Tom, you're smart. You should have been in Ravenclaw. You know why? Because you had me falling into the same trap all over again. I tried to avoid it, I thought I could keep hating you if I remembered who you were and what you've done, but no, you actually had me caring for you again! You had me close to _loving _you again! And do you know what? A part of me knew what was happening, and it didn't even care!" She lashed out again and hit his face with a resonating _smack. _"I trusted you. I wanted to help you. I let you save me, patch me up, comfort me. I went to you for bloody _comfort!_ You! Voldemort!" The last of her strength gave out and she crumpled into a ball on the floor. "Just kill me," she said. "I don't want to live anymore."

Tom rose to stand over her. "I'm not in the mood to coddle you just now," he said shortly. He made for the door, picking up his wand in his long fingers as he passed the table. "Stay in here until you've calmed down and we can talk rationally." He slammed the door hard behind him.

With strangled hiccups, Ginny maneuvered her trembling body beneath her comforter and stared at the blue flames in the fireplace, letting her tears roll until they ran out. Now that the heat of the moment was gone, she could feel the acute soreness in her joints from the Cruciatus Curses.

"Are you alright?" a soft voice asked from behind her, and Ginny pivoted her head to meet Harry's ghostly stare.

"Harry," she whispered, standing shakily.

"Are you okay, Ginny?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't."

"I'll be fine," she insisted. "Once I get out of here. I just don't know how to get away."

"Just apparate," he urged her.

"I don't have a wand," she reminded him.

Harry thought for a moment. "What about the invisibility cloak?" he asked. "I know where it is. I can bring you there."

A dim spark of hope flared up in the recesses of her heart. "Where is it? How far?"

"Not far. I left it hidden at the inn I'd been living in.

"Which inn?"

"Madam Frieda's," said Harry, and Ginny felt her face break into a weak smile.

"I've been staying there, too," she said. "I know Madam Frieda. Where's it hidden?"

Harry took a few steps toward her and reached out to touch her arm. His hand fell straight through. "Erm, sorry," he said.

"It's fine." The coldness of his touch made her want to shiver, but for his benefit she forced herself to keep still. "The cloak?"

"Right. The cloak. It's in the basement. Have you ever been down there?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Right, well, the stairs are in the kitchen. Once you're down there, look around for a big pile of crates with apples in them. They should be in the corner. I pushed them into a circle, and I put my things in the center."

"Your things?" Ginny repeated. "More things than just the cloak?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Everything I had. I was living down there."

"You didn't have a room?"

"Couldn't call that kind of attention to myself."

Ginny licked her lips. "So nobody knew you were there?"

He shook his head. "Not a soul."

The wheels in her brain began to turn. "Is your wand down there?"

He reached into a ghostly pocket and pulled out a pale, wispy wand. "It's a ghost, too," he explained. "It still works, a little. I can make patronuses. No summoning spells, though. I don't think it works on things that aren't ghosts. But the real thing is gone. It broke when I tried to destroy the horcrux."

A new idea sprang up. "Is the horcrux there?"

"No, I brought it into the forest before I opened it up. Destroying horcruxes is messy. I couldn't do it in the basement."

"Where in the forest?" she asked, but he was already shaking his head.

"Don't you go trying to track it down," he ordered. "It's dangerous."

"Which one is it? The locket? The cup? Don't give me that look, Ron's told me all about them. I'm more useful than you give me credit for."

He sighed. "The locket, if you must know," he said. "I know you'll try to find it no matter what I say." He began to pace in front of the fireplace. "Maybe it's for the best," he mused. "The prophecy said Voldemort couldn't be defeated without my intervention. Maybe I can help you destroy the horcruxes in my place."

"It's worth a try," she urged. "Is the sword in the forest, too? The goblin-made one?"

"Yes. _Be careful,_ Ginevra."

She blinked. "Ginny," she corrected him.

"Ginny. Be careful. It's going to try to trick you. It's going to promise you things, tell you lies, and you can't believe any of them."

"What did it say to you?" she asked, only half-sure she wanted to know.

He looked into her eyes. She searched his irises desperately for some tinge of green, but every part of him was ghostly grey. "It twisted itself up until it looked like you," he said, "and I couldn't do it."

"Oh," Ginny breathed. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything, didn't move for a few moments. Then: "Find the cloak. Meet me in the forest tonight. My patronus will show you the way."

She closed her eyes. "I love you," she whispered. There was a twinge of pain in her heart as she said it. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Ginny gathered her composure and walked out of the house and out to the porch. Tom and Billy were lounging in the rocking chairs. They turned when she opened the door. Tom's face hardened when he saw her. "I'm ready to be rational," she said, eyes on the ground.

Tom rose and guided her back into the house with a hand on the small of her back. "How's the pain?" he asked when they were inside.

She shrugged. "Painful," she said truthfully.

"I want you to eat something."

"Okay."

He walked her to Billy's kitchen. A plate of eggs sat on the table. "Eat them all," he ordered, taking the seat beside hers. Obediently, she scooped a spoonful into her mouth. They were cold. She barely cared. "We're going home, I think," he said.

"Home?"

"Back to the manor, I mean. Tonight."

_Tonight. _That barely left any time for horcrux-destroying. "I don't want to. Mr. Malfoy is there."

"He isn't going to touch you. You can stay in my chambers."

"I won't share a house with him," Ginny said stubbornly.

"Fine," he snapped. "When we get back, I'll take care of him."

Ginny nearly dropped her spoon. "Take care of . . . you mean kill him?"

"If it will make you feel better, then yes."

"I don't want you to _kill _him," she cried.

"What am I doing wrong, Ginevra?" he shouted. She looked away from him and scooped eggs onto her spoon and moved to put it into her mouth. He grabbed her wrist and yanked the utensil back down to the plate. "I'm serious! I can't understand why you won't let me keep you safe. That's all I'm trying to do. I want you to be safe."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter why."

"It matters to me." She dared to glance up at him. His expression was hard and unreadable. "I don't believe you're evil, Tom."

He looked at her without blinking for an uncomfortable ten seconds. "You want the truth," he said finally. She nodded. "The absolute truth?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath, and then held out his hand across the table. Hesitantly, she took it. He pulled out his wand and began to draw a fiery snake around their wrists. "I swear to tell you the absolute truth, then," he said, and the snake tightened uncomfortably and disappeared. "Okay," he whispered. "An Unbreakable. This is the truth."

"Thank you." Ginny was whispering too, although she didn't know why. She pulled her hand out of his and hid it in her lap.

"You know about my horcruxes, I trust?" he asked.

She nodded.

"And you know that the diary you found when you were eleven - "

" - was a horcrux, yes," she interrupted. "Harry destroyed it."

"Yes," he confirmed quietly. "And once it was freed from its prison, that piece of my soul came back to me. I have all its memories. I feel all its emotions. I know how it interacted with you, how you trusted it."

She felt her face grow hot.

"You told that piece of my soul," he said gently, "every secret you had. You gave it your entire life. It was exactly what I'd expected, exactly what I'd needed. I was delighted at how easy it was to take advantage of you."

"Are you just going to insult me?" she interjected.

"You needed a friend. Someone who would listen and care. My horcrux filled that void for you."

"Before it betrayed me," she muttered.

His face had lost its trademark smirk. For the first time, she noticed dark shadows beneath his eyes. "I've never told you about my childhood, have I," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I grew up in a place where nobody cared about me. I was ignored. If I wanted attention, I had to fight for it. I had to force them to notice me. And it caused some of them to fear me, but at least they knew I existed. It was the same thing at Hogwarts. I made them notice me. I worked hard to stand out, to shock them the same way I shocked everyone else in my life. It had different results. At Hogwarts, they weren't afraid of me. They understood magic. Instead of fear, there was awe. They thought I was advanced and impressive. They wanted to be around me. But I didn't care about them as much as they cared about me. They were just sheep. I could replace any of them in a heartbeat. I couldn't make myself love them, not even the ones who claimed to love me."

"Because love makes you weak," Ginny quoted bitterly, but he was looking right through her.

"I delved into my past. I learned that my mother lured my muggle father into marrying her using a love potion. I learned that any child conceived under the influence of such a potion will be born incapable of feeling real love." He paused, eyes still vacant. He looked older than Ginny had ever seen him. "So I had my answer. I didn't love because I couldn't. I stopped trying. I focused on bigger things."

"Tom," Ginny whispered, and his eyes snapped back into focus.

"Then Potter destroyed my horcrux," he said. "And that piece of my soul you so adored, well, it came flying back. You were the first person to trust me that way in years. I've had followers. I've had people who fear me. But not since Hogwarts has anyone _loved _me."

She wanted to deny it, but she held her tongue.

"For so long, I've distracted myself, Ginevra. But there's nothing left to distract me anymore. Potter's gone. Dumbledore's gone. I've achieved every goal. And I don't feel satisfied. I can't love. I can't love you. I've been trying for months, Gin, ever since I found you again at the Leaky Cauldron, but I can't _do it._"

A ringing silence followed his words. "You want to love me?" Ginny said finally.

He laughed once, humorlessly, coldly. "Why do you think I've been trying so hard to keep you happy? Why do you think I let you sleep in my bloody bed when you're scared? I'm trying to act halfway decent towards the one person on this earth who might have a chance of loving me back. And I know I'm not _good. _I never pretended I was. I have a temper, just like everybody else. But at least I'm bloody _trying._"

She opened her mouth to say something, but the door creaked open before she could form the words, and Billy Stubbs made his way inside. "You both okay in here?" he asked, laying a sympathetic hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"Yes," Ginny said, not taking her eyes off Tom. "I feel a lot calmer now. Tom and I were just about to go back to the inn."

"I'll walk you out," Billy offered, and Ginny let him help her up. "Do you think we'll get to see you again before you go back home?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I hope so. I think Tom's eager to get back, though."

Tom wouldn't look at her as they walked down the road away from the cemetery. He took long, fast strides, and she had to trot to keep up. "Tom," she said. "Please slow down. Let me talk to you."

He stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into him. "Once we get back, you're free to go," he said flatly, staring straight ahead. "Go home, go to the Leaky Cauldron, I don't care. I won't keep you locked up anymore."

"Look at me," she said, and he whirled to face her. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a cold kiss against his mouth.

He broke the kiss instantly. "Don't do that," he said bitterly. "Don't do something you don't want to do just because you feel _sorry_ for me."

"I wasn't." Ginny shoved her hands in her pockets. "Thank you for being honest."

He looked like he was struggling to find something to say, but halfway through forming the sentence he gave up and kissed her hard. He wrapped his hands up in her hair pulled her against him tightly, and in spite of the snow, Ginny felt deliciously warm, as if a blue flame had sprung up somewhere inside her chest.


	17. Lumos - Light

16. _Lumos/_Light

With only a little effort, Ginny convinced him to stay one more night at Madam Frieda's. "I've been through a lot these past two days," she insisted. "I need one night to just sit alone in my room and - and - sort out how I'm feeling."

He conceded easily, fetching her another calming draught before retiring to his room in the early afternoon. Ginny sat cross-legged on her bed and sipped the potion slowly while staring out the window at the cluster of trees where she knew Harry's patronus was lurking.

A piece of her wanted desperately to abandon the plan. Deep down, in a part of her mind that she rarely acknowledged, she knew she wouldn't be able to destroy the horcrux. She couldn't hurt him, not even after everything he'd done. He was her first love. It didn't matter that he'd never really loved her back. He was no Prince Charming, no happily ever after, but he was the beginning, and the sliver of her heart that still believed in goodness wouldn't let her hate him.

As dusk began to settle on the horizon, Ginny made herself go downstairs to find the cellar. The stairs were in plain sight, nestled in the back corner of the pantry, and with a quick glance over her shoulder she began the descent into the darkness. "_Lumos,_" she whispered, and then cursed under her breath when she remembered once again that she didn't have a wand.

"_Lumos,_" a clear voice repeated from the gloom; Ginny jumped a foot off the ground as a wand lit up at the bottom of the stairs. The pale light wasn't strong enough to fight off the darkness completely, but it illuminated the face of the caster, and Ginny let out a sigh that was half exasperation and half relief.

"Harry Potter, you scared me to death," she accused, and then instantly regretted her choice of words.

The ghost didn't appear to notice her faux pas. "Come on," he said with a grin, beckoning with the hand not gripping his wand. She came down the stairs to meet him. "This is where I was staying," he told her, gesturing at a pile of crates and boxes in the corner of the low-ceilinged basement. "The sword is there."

Tentatively, Ginny touched the hilt of the goblin-made sword. "It's light," she said with surprise, lifting it into the air.

Harry nodded. "Goblin steel is lightweight. Powerful, though. It's destroyed two horcruxes. Hopefully three, after tonight."

Ginny bit her lip and tried not to meet Harry's eye. "Which horcruxes are gone?" she asked.

Harry began to tick them off on his fingers. "The diary, obviously, from my second year. Dumbledore destroyed Slytherin's ring. Nagini - that's his snake - was killed in a raid. Hit by a stray killing curse. Ron and Luna found Ravenclaw's diadem and cut it apart with the Sword of Gryffindor. And I stabbed through Hufflepuff's cup." He closed his hand into a fist. "All that's left is the locket," he told her, "and then he's mortal."

"So it's up to me," Ginny said.

"It's up to you."

She touched the flat of the blade with her fingertips. "I don't know if I can do it," she admitted.

"Don't be afraid," Harry urged. "I'll come with you. I'll be there the whole time."

She shook her head. "It's not that. I'm not afraid. I just don't know if I can hurt him."

"What do you mean?"

She set the sword down on a crate. "He told me he cares about me. I don't have many people left who care about me."

"You can't trust him, Gin. Not again."

Her eyes flashed. "This is different. It's true this time. He made an Unbreakable Vow to tell me the truth."

Harry furrowed his brow. "He couldn't have."

"Well, he did." She bit her lip again. "Maybe he's done killing, Harry. Maybe he's only evil because he's never cared about anyone before, and now that he does. . . ."

"No," Harry interrupted. "Ginny. Think for a minute. What is the consequence for breaking an Unbreakable?"

"Death."

"Exactly. But Voldemort _can't die._"

Her breath hitched. "It's different," she said lamely, but she suddenly felt very hot.

"He's tricking you again. You can't let him." Harry began to pace the floor, his brow still furrowed in thought. "This can work to our advantage," he mused. "Once the locket is gone, the second he breaks his Vow, he'll die."

Ginny grabbed the sword and started up the stairs to the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she growled.

"What are you doing? Gin, stay here."

"He has manipulated me for the last time," she said, swinging the door open and marching out into the lobby. Harry didn't follow, or if he did, his new ghostly form wasn't fast enough to keep up with her. She pounded on Tom's door with so much force that her fist ached, but she didn't care. Her face was burning. Her vision was tinged red.

Tom opened the door roughly, an angry scowl contorting his features, but when he saw her his expression changed to one of concern. "Ginevra? Are you all - "

"You lying deceitful two-faced mendacious _bastard,_" she hissed, shoving past him into his room.

"I don't - where did you get a _sword?_"

She brandished the blade at him; he took a step backwards, hands raised in surrender. "Stop acting innocent," she growled. "You will never fool me again."

He reached behind him to close the door, and then approached her slowly, hands still in the air. "Okay," he said slowly. "Calm down. Put the sword down, please."

"Why? It's not like it can hurt you! It's not like you can die!"

"Put the sword down," he repeated, but she didn't.

"You told me you _loved _me!" she cried. "You made me an Unbreakable Vow."

"I told you I _wanted _to love you," he corrected, "and it's the truth."

"You're still lying!" She didn't know who she hated more: him for being so damn good at playing with her emotions, or herself, for falling into his trap again. "Unbreakable Vows mean nothing to people who can't die, Tom!"

"Ginny." He was advancing toward her again. "Put the sword down. You aren't making any sense."

"I'm done listening to you," she said. "I'm done obeying you. I'm done. I'm leaving. Give me my wand. You told me I could go home, I'm holding you to it."

"Will you please sit down," he said patiently, "so we can talk about this?"

"No!" she shrieked. "We can't talk about anything!"

"Ginevra."

"_Voldemort,_" she shot back, and he looked surprised.

"Do you want another calming darught?" he asked. "I can get one for you."

"I don't want anything from you. Give. Me. My. Wand."

"Okay." Eyes never leaving hers, he reached into his robes and pulled out her wand. "You can have it. It's yours."

Ginny didn't lower the sword. "Put it on the bed," she instructed. "Put it on the - "

"_Petrificus totalus._"

The spell hit Ginny hard. She toppled over backwards, muscles frozen. Gently, Tom pried the sword from her hand and lifted her off the floor. He arranged her on the bed and then took a seat next to her. "Stunned by your own wand," he said with a little smirk, twirling said wand between his fingers. "The irony."

She wanted to rip his throat apart.

"So you figured it out," he said. "My little loophole."

She felt her heart rate speed up.

"The funny thing is, Gin, I've been telling the truth the whole time. I really can't love. And I really do want to. I know you don't believe me, but it's true."

She knew it wasn't.

"I'm going to run downstairs to get another calming draught," he told her. "When I come back, I'll take the stunning spell off of you. You will drink the potion, and then we'll sort this out."

Ginny stayed immobilized on the bed sending furious thoughts at him until he came back with the potion. He removed the stunning spell, and when she tried to hit him, he pinned her hands above her head and forced the draught down her throat. This one was stronger than the one she'd sipped earlier. Against her will, she started to relax. Her sharp anger became blurred and numbed.

"You're a liar," she mumbled, not looking at him.

He let out a laugh. "We're all liars."

"You disgust me."

"Ginevra, look around you!" he cried. "Everything you ask for, I give you. You wanted another night here, so we're staying another night here." He let go of her hands and pressed his palms against his face. "I'm trying," he said. "I'm doing everything I can think of."

She rolled over and pushed her face into a pillow. Hot tears leaked from her eyes. "I hate you."

"I know. I wish you didn't."

She fell asleep next to him, silent tears bathing her face until her eyes were red and puffy.

* * *

"_Ginny._"

Ginny's eyes snapped open.

"_Ginny, wake up._"

Slowly, she sat up, eyes squinting against the darkness to make out the speaker. "Harry?" she whispered.

"Come on," the ghost urged. "He's asleep. It's now or never."

"I can't see you," she said, and he illuminated his wand. The faint glow was just bright enough for her to make out Tom's form next to her. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell evenly. His long, dark lashes cast shadows over his marble cheekbones. In sleep, this Dark Lord looked innocent, like a child, like a boy who really did mean it when he said he wanted to be in love.

"Get the sword," Harry reminded her, and she picked up the blade and stole out of Tom's room. The hallway was brightly lit, making Ginny screw up her eyes, but she followed Harry downstairs to the lobby. He began to float through the front door. "What's wrong?" he asked when she hung back.

"I can't touch the door." She explained Tom's protection spell to Harry.

Harry frowned. "Maybe I can open it for you," he suggested, raising his ghostly wand. "_Confringo!_"

The spell passed straight through the door without causing any damage.

"What about a patronus?" Ginny asked desperately. "That's how I got out last time. It opened my window."

"Okay." Harry closed his eyes, concentrating. Whatever he memory he had chosen brought a faint smile to his lips. "_Expecto patronum,_" he said, and the shining stag leaped forth. "Get us out of here," Harry instructed it, and the stag lowered its antlers and charged at the door, splintering it into pieces with a loud _crack_. "That'll have woken someone up," Harry said as the stag ran off into the night. "We have to get out of here." He began to glide toward the forest. Ginny followed closely, holding the sword tightly with both hands.

"It's here," Harry said finally, leading her out into a clearing. The moon overhead reflected off the snow; they could see as clearly as if it were daytime.

"Where?" Ginny asked, holding the sword up in case it decided to leap at her.

"I don't see it." Harry looked troubled. "It was here!"

"Looking for this?"

On the opposite side of the clearing, a redheaded beauty in a large, fur-lined parka emerged from the trees. Her hair blew gently around her face, ruffled by a breeze that didn't affect the rest of the world. Her eyes were a bright, otherworldly green, and the hint of a smile played around her lips. She looked exactly like a prettier version of. . . .

"Ginny," breathed Harry.

"Looking for this?" the redhead said again, holding up a large, ugly locket. "Harry Potter," she cooed, swinging the bauble by its chain as she sashayed across the clearing. "The Boy Who Lived. Or, I suppose, the Boy Who Died." She let out a girlish giggle. "And this must be your darling Ginny!" The redhead dropped the locket into the snow and folded her arms across her chest. "Are you here to avenge him?" she asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.

"Don't answer it," Harry said quickly. "Don't let it distract you. Just kill it."

Ginny gripped the sword hard and took a step toward the redhead.

"Walk away, little Ginny," the horcrux warned. "You won't like what's coming next."

Ginny took another step forward. With a devilish smile, the redhead began to evaporate into the air. Her face turned to fog, her skin greying and contorting and changing. The fog reformed itself into a new shape, a taller shape, one with dark hair and long lashes and marble cheekbones. . . .

"Ginevra," Tom Riddle whispered, extending a hand toward her. "Put the sword down, my love."

Ginny clenched her teeth together.

"Sweetheart," the horcrux purred. His smirk was crueler that the real Tom's. "Come here to me. You know I love you. You must know it's true."

She swallowed hard and redoubled her grip on the sword.

"My darling," he crooned. "My beautiful, determined Ginevra. Give up your fight for once. Let me make it all better. Let me adore you, cherish you. You've always been so forgotten, haven't you? Lost among your brothers? To me, you are the only one in the world. Come here to me, Ginny. I'll make the nightmares go away."

"It isn't real, Ginny," Harry shouted behind her. She could barely make out his voice over the pounding of her own heart.

"You are the only one I have ever cared for," the horcrux whispered, beckoning her closer with one finger. Entranced, she stepped forward. "Stay with me forever. Let me love you."

"It's not real!" Harry yelled.

"You're not real," Ginny whispered, eyes wide.

"I am real," Riddle said, a slow smirk crossing his face. "It's me. I've never loved anyone, Ginevra, but I want to love you. I want it more than anything. Won't you come let me love you?"

"You're not real," Ginny repeated, but she didn't believe her own words. It was his face, his voice, his soul. Trembling, she dropped the sword and reached for him. "Tom," she murmured.

"Ginevra," he said, and her name was like honey on his lips. "Forget Harry Potter. You were never good enough for him, were you? He never noticed you. But I noticed you. You were my whole world, Ginevra. You are still my whole world." His dark eyes were glittering. Ginny couldn't look away.

"You're a horcrux," Ginny said disjointedly. She could hear Harry screaming behind her, but everything was muted, as if she's gone deaf and blind to anything that wasn't Tom.

"I'm your Tom," Riddle promised. She was almost touching his hand.

Her fingers were a fraction of an inch away from his when Riddle let out a scream. Startled, Ginny jumped backward. "What's happening?" the horcrux howled, its face blurring into a thick grey fog. "What did you do?" It started to evaporate, the same way it had when it had looked like Ginny, but this time it didn't reform. It turned into smoke, lingering a few feet off the ground before gradually fading.

A tall, shadowy form walked through the fog toward Ginny, becoming clearer as it drew closer. "Ginevra, you _idiot_," said Tom - she knew it was the real Tom this time - as he stepped out of the smoke entirely. He held her fallen sword in one hand and a smashed locket in the other.

Ginny felt her jaw drop as she looked at him. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to think of something to say, but there were too many questions, too many pieces of this puzzle that didn't make sense. Finally, she blurted, "Aren't you cold?"

He looked down at himself, as if noticing for the first time that he hadn't put on any kind of cloak. "That's all you can say?" he asked. "I just destroyed my own horcrux to save your life, and you're worried about my body temperature?"

"I just - I don't want you to freeze to death. Since you can die now, and all," she managed.

"I can die now," he repeated quietly, sounding almost wonderstruck.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"It would have killed you."

"You care about me that much? Enough to kill a piece of your own soul?"

He looked into her eyes. "I do."

She suddenly felt very warm. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked suddenly. "In your Unbreakable Vow? About wanting to love me? Was that the truth?"

"Yes."

For one terrifying second, she was sure he was going to keel over. But he didn't move.

"You're shivering," he pointed out.

"It's cold," she said.

"Do you want to go back to the inn?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

For the third time in two days, she found herself pressing her lips against Tom's. She heard the muted _thud _of the sword falling into the snow as he dropped it to wrap his arms around her. He drew her close, holding her almost painfully tightly, and Ginny could feel his heartbeat even though he should have been dead, she was sure he'd broken the Unbreakable, because he never cared for people, not the Dark Lord, not Tom Riddle. . . .

But his heart was beating all the same, and Ginny closed her eyes and let herself melt into him the way she'd been longing to since she was eleven years old.


	18. Evanesco - Vanish

17. _Evanesco/_Vanish

They left the inn the next night, after a long and tearful goodbye between Ginny and Madam Frieda. Ginny snuck down to the basement to tell Harry she was leaving, but he wasn't there. He'd disappeared after the horcrux was destroyed. She desperately hoped he'd left before she'd kissed Tom.

"I'll go first," Tom said, closing his fist around a handful of Floo powder as he stepped into the fireplace. "Wait a few minutes until you follow, and don't jump out until you see me."

Ginny smiled. "I remember that speech."

"Are you going to jump out early again?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

She pretended to think about it, just for the satisfaction of seeing his eyes flash with frustration. "Of course not." She took her own handful of powder. "Go already!"

Eyeing her warily, he threw the powder at his feet and disappeared in the green flames. Ginny waited for the smoke to clear before she stepped into the fireplace. "Tom's -" she started, but she cut herself off as Harry's ghost appeared in the lobby. "Harry!" she cried. "I tried to find you!"

"I saw everything," Harry said bluntly. "I saw you kissing him."

She felt her face flush. "He was telling the truth," she explained. "About caring for me. I asked him, and he told me it was true, and if he'd been lying, the Unbreakable -"

"Do you love him?"

"I - what?"

"Do you love him?"

If it were anyone else, she would have been able to lie. "I don't know," she whispered.

"How can you not know?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"You _do_ love him," Harry breathed. "I thought - I don't know what I thought. How _could _you?"

"I didn't ask for any of this to happen," she snapped. "Do you really think I wanted things to turn out this way? Are you that bloody _thick_? You should know better than anyone else that love isn't a choice!"

"I love you, Ginny," he said clearly. "I will love you for the rest of eternity. I will love you when you grow old, and I will love you once you've died, and I will love you when the rest of the world has forgotten you ever existed."

She wanted so badly to kiss him. "I know you will," she said finally.

He gently brushed her cheek with his hand. It felt like ice water on her skin. "Lie to me," he whispered, "and say you'll love me forever, too."

It was like being jabbed with a needle. "I _will _love you forever," she said fiercely. "But I won't kill anyone for you. There's been enough killing." She pressed her lips into his cheek and nearly fell through him. "I have to go," she said, eyes stinging with tears. "He's expecting me."

She could tell Harry wanted to protest, but he stepped out of the fireplace and began to drift away. She had already drawn the breath to shout her destination when she suddenly remembered something important. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and Harry turned back. "I forgot to tell you! The new Order of the Phoenix headquarters is at the Leaky Cauldron. There's a staircase behind a cabinet next to the oven."

A smile ghosted across Harry's face. "Who goes to the meetings?" he asked carefully, but she knew what he was really asking: _Who's still alive?_

"Ron and Hermione," she said quickly, "and Neville and Luna, and George and Charlie, and Katie Bell. And Kingsley Shacklebolt and Flitwick."

"Tonks?" Harry asked anxiously. "Lupin?"

"They come around once in awhile, when they can find someone to watch the baby." A horrible thought struck Ginny. "At least, they used to. I have no idea who still . . . comes to meetings anymore." She glanced up into the flue. "I have to go," she said quickly. "He'll wonder where I am. Go to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll catch up with you soon." Harry started to say something, but she was already shouting, "Tom's mansion," and throwing her Floo powder.

In no time at all she was tumbling out on the other side. "I was about to come get you," Tom said, grabbing her elbow and helping her to her feet.

"You told me to wait a few minutes."

"When did you start doing what I tell you?" He said it with a smirk.

"Don't be cheeky," she told him. "It isn't attractive." She began to shake cinders out of her hair. "Are you going to make me sleep in here?" she asked, looking pointedly at his bed. His chamber was exactly the way they'd left it all those months ago.

"I won't 'make' you do anything," he said, shrugging out of his cloak. "But if you want to sleep here, be my guest." He pointed his wand at the fireplace and started up a blaze.

She looked at the closed door for a moment. "I do want to," she said. "Just for tonight. Just until Malfoy's gone."

Tom was in the bathroom, rummaging through his closet. "Whatever you like," he called over his shoulder. Ginny perched on the bed and waited for him to change. Her dress was streaked with soot from the fireplace. When they'd first arrived in Denmark, Tom had conjured up dozens of dresses and cloaks for her, but there was no easy way to bring them through the Floo network, so she'd left them at Madam Frieda's.

"I need something else to wear," she reminded him, smoothing the skirt of her dress around her.

He emerged from his closet. "You have clothes here, don't you? In your room?"

"Yes."

He waved his hand uninterestedly. "Run up and get some, then."

Something in her stomach clenched. "I don't want to."

"Oh?" He wasn't looking at her, but she could see his face curving into a smirk. "Why not?"

She scowled. He knew exactly why not. There were too may memories there, too many nightmares. But she didn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it. "Fine," she snapped. "I'll go get some." She pushed at the door, which didn't budge. "Unlock the door."

Grinning, Tom flicked his wand lazily, and the door creaked open.

"I'll be back in a few, then." She marched out the door and up the stairs. The halls were dark; it was past midnight. The only light came from beneath the doors of a few Death Eater apartments.

The door to Ginny's room was ajar. An eerie stillness filled the room. As far as she could tell, nobody had been in here since she left. The pile of stale rolls had completely taken over the corner, and a fine layer of dust had settled over the cracked tub in the bathroom. _Nobody's been here,_ Ginny told herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was watching her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught something moving, and with a gasp she whirled around to face it. Staring back at her was her own face, distorted and cracked, and almost a full second passed before Ginny realized it was only a mirror. Trembling, she brushed her fingers along the broken mirror. "Just you," she whispered.

Her reflection smiled. "Just me," she whispered, and it took Ginny a second to convince herself that it was just mimicking her, it wasn't alive.

Shuddering, Ginny turned away from the mirror to face her closet. "Nothing to be afraid of." She grabbed the first nightdress her hand touched and forced herself to walk, not run, from the room. She held her breath all the way down the stairs, praying Dorris the snake wasn't hiding in the shadows waiting to lunge at her. The sound of a faint conversation from a Death Eater apartment leaked out into the hallway, but Ginny didn't stop to eavesdrop. Clutching the dress, she walked as quickly as she could to Tom's chambers.

She lifted the knocker on Tom's door and let it fall. The snake's head began to move. "_Passssword?_" it asked.

Ginny told the snake her name in Parseltongue, and the door swung open. Heart still pounding, she burst into the warmly lit room. Tom was lying on the bed reading a book, but he sat up when she slammed the door. "How'd you get in?" he asked, looking thoroughly perplexed.

"The password's my name," she said bluntly, walking into the bathroom to change.

"How did you -"

"I speak Parseltongue," she called, pulling the nightdress over her head.

"When did -"

"When you possessed me." She climbed into bed next to him.

He still looked troubled. "Oh."

She poked his book. "What are you reading?"

He handed her the paperback.

She scanned the cover. "Quidditch?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. "You're into Quidditch?"

He shrugged. "I used to play."

"What position?"

"Seeker. Are you ready to sleep?"

"Sure." She pulled back the blankets and slipped underneath. Tom flicked his wand at the fire, and it died down to embers.

"Tomorrow evening I'm calling a Death Eater meeting," he said as she rolled over to face him. "I'm going to tell them that Potter is dead, and they can return to their own homes. So Malfoy will be gone."

Her smile was bittersweet. "Thank you," she whispered.

"And you and I will have the place to ourselves."

The smile hardened. "You know I'm not staying here, though, don't you?"

"You aren't?"

She shook her head. "You told me I could go home. Remember?"

"Oh." Even in the dim light of the dying fire, she could see his pale cheeks flush. "Of course."

"And you're going to leave me alone, right?" she said. "I mean, you won't torture my family or friends trying to get me back?"

"I won't." He pressed his lips together until they turned white. "You'll have to use magic to get out through the sandstorm," he said finally. "_Evanesco _should do the trick."

"_Evanesco,_" she repeated. "That's it? A simple vanishing spell?" She clucked her tongue. "I expected better from you, Tom Riddle."

He ignore the jibe. "You'll also need this." He rolled over and picked up something from his nightstand. "Your wand."

Ginny let him drop it into her hand. "Thank you," she said softly, turning it over in her hands. She hadn't realized until now how incomplete she had felt without it.

He started to say something, and then thought better of it. "I hope you'll stay for the meeting," he said finally.

"If you want me there, I'll stay."

"And then where will you go?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know yet," she lied

He saw through her easily. "I won't try to find you," he said, propping himself up on one elbow. "I just want to be able to check up on you. To make sure you're safe."

She shook her head. "I don't care. I don't want to risk it."

He exhaled. "So that's it, then. After tomorrow, I'll never see you again."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "We both know that's how it has to be. For your own safety."

He looked at her, his mouth twisted into a confused smile. "For _my_ safety?"

"Yes." She sat up, and he followed suit. "You aren't immortal anymore, remember? Anybody who wants to can kill you. If anyone finds out you're close to me, they'll use me as bait. And you know how I feel about being used as bait," she added teasingly, but it was only a half-hearted attempt at humor.

He seized her face in both hands and kissed her hard. "Will you make me an Unbreakable Vow?" he asked when they broke apart.

She hesitated, but in the end she nodded. "I owe you three, if I'm counting right."

"Will you promise to come to my funeral?"

It wasn't what she'd expected. "Is that going to be anytime soon?"

"No, probably not," he said. "But now that I know it's coming someday . . . I can't think of anyone I'd rather have there." He held out his hand. "Will you?"

She took his hand and watched him weave the now-familiar pattern around their wrists. She spoke the Vow shakily, and when the fiery snake vanished she had to blink back tears.

"You can come back any time," he reminded her. "To visit, I mean."

With a sad smile, she shook her head. "I'm not coming back," she whispered. "I don't want to come back. I don't want to remember any of this."

"I want to remember you," he said softly, cupping her cheek in his hand.

She pulled away and put her head down on the pillow. "I don't want you to," she said sternly, turning her face away from him so he wouldn't see her tears. "I'm sorry. Please don't touch me."

He let her be, arranging himself under the blankets and drifting to sleep many hours before Ginny managed to. "I'm sorry," she breathed as she closed her eyes, talking to nobody, or everybody, or maybe only herself.


	19. Reducto - Break

18. _Reducto/_Break

"_Wingardium leviosa,_" Ginny muttered, aiming her wand at the unmade bed. The comforter rose up into the air. _"Petrificus totalus._" It went rigid, as stiff and flat as a board, and she gently lowered it. _"Scourgify._" Tiny specks of dirt and dust flew off the bed and into the air and disappeared, almost as if they'd been sucked into an invisible vacuum cleaner._ "Spongify._" The comforter lost its stiffness and became soft again. Ginny sighed with pleasure. She'd missed being able to do magic.

"You're making the bed _again_?" Tom said sullenly from the bathroom.

Ginny ignored him and yanked the comforter onto the ground. "_Wingardium leviosa._" The comforter rose up into the air.

"You're going to wear out your wand," Tom said.

"_Petrificus totalus._" It went rigid, as stiff and flat as a board.

"I've never seen anyone take so much enjoyment from household chores." She heard the snideness in his voice, and she felt her face grow pink. "It's quaint."

"_Scourgify._" Tiny specks of dirt and dust flew off the bed and into the air.

"Are you just going to ignore me?"

"_Spongify._" The comforter became soft again.

"Fine." He slammed his closet door shut. "Fine. Do what you want."

She didn't turn around, didn't look at him. _"Wingardium leviosa._" Up in the air. "_Petrificus totalus._" Rigid. Stiff. Board.

"The meeting is starting soon," Tom said. "I expect you to be there."

"_Scourgify._" Dust in the air.

"Are you going to be there, Ginevra?"

"_Spong -_"

He grabbed her wrist. "Will you be there?"

She pulled away from his touch. "Yes."

"Look at me."

She did.

"Can't we at least part on good terms?"

"I'd rather not."

"What the - why not?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to change my mind," she said finally.

"About leaving?"

She looked away. "_Spongify._"

"You think you might change your mind?"

"_Wingardium leviosa. _I don't know. You make me very unsure of myself. _Petrificus totalus._"

"So you want to stay? You're welcome to."

"_Scourgify. Spongify._ I can't stay. It's wrong." She finally lowered her wand. "I'm not supposed to end up with you."

"But if you want to -"

"It doesn't matter what I want." She stowed her wand in her pocket. "What matters is what's right. And you aren't right, Tom. Everything you do is the exact opposite of right."

"So it isn't right that I want to love you?" he said hotly.

"This isn't about love. This is about the killing, and the torturing, and the kidnapping, and the overall sadism."

He slammed his fist against the wall.

"Well, don't take it out on the architecture," said Ginny after a moment.

He wouldn't look at her. "I suppose we should get to the meeting."

She followed him out of his chambers and into the dining room, where most of the Death Eaters were already convened. They were seated around the long mahogany table, each bearing a mask (Ginny wondered idly why they bothered to hide their identities from each other when they all lived in the same hallway). They'd left the head of the table vacant for Tom. She saw an empty chair down near the foot of the table, next to a greasy black-haired individual who could only be Snape, but she decided to stand instead, lurking just behind Tom's seat, as out of sight as she could make herself.

Bellatrix noticed her immediately. Ginny tried to avoid eye contact, but she could sense Bellatrix leering at her, like a predator moments from attacking.

Tom rose to his feet. An immediate silence fell over the table. "I've called this meeting because I have some exciting news," Tom said, weaving his long fingers together. "As many of you know, I spent much of the last year in Denmark, searching for Harry Potter."

The obligatory growl went up around the table. Ginny clenched her fist beneath her cloak.

"I am happy to report," he continued over the catcalls, "that our young Mr. Potter is dead."

With a squeal of delight, Bellatrix leaped to her feet and led the table in a thunderous round of applause. Ginny bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

"I found him staying at an inn," Tom continued, his face adopting an almost dreamy expression. "He thought he could escape me if he fled the country. He was _hiding_. But there is no escaping the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix was grinning like a fool.

"I cornered him one night wandering through the woods. He was all alone. No friends, no teachers, no Dumbledore to die for him this time."

Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes. She should have expected exaggeration from him, especially in front of his followers, but this was getting ridiculous.

"I tortured him first. He was screaming, begging for me to stop, the same way his mudblood mother begged me to spare him. Now, you know your Lord Voldemort is a merciful wizard. I offered him a bargain: join my army of Death Eaters, or face death." A smirk spread across his face. "You know how those Gryffindors are. They can't turn down a chance show off their courage. Harry Potter chose to die."

Bellatrix let out a gleeful whoop.

Ginny couldn't hold herself back any longer. "That's not what happened," she said. Only Tom heard her. He sent a warning glare her way, but before she could think it through, she was yelling. "You're a liar," she shouted above the din.

Tom's face hardened dangerously. "That's enough, Ginevra," he said through clenched teeth. The Death Eaters were still celebrating, but the ones closest to the head of the table noticed the confrontation and began to shush their peers.

"Tell them what really happened," she demanded. The table became quiet, save for the rustle of whispers. "He didn't kill Harry," she announced, reaching into her pocket for her wand, just in case. "Harry was already dead when we arrived. He's been dead for a year. Tom had nothing to do with -"

"_Silencio!_"

Ginny's voice stopped working. A Death Eater near the middle of the table was on his feet, wand out, pointed directly at her. As he pulled off his mask to scowl at her, long blonde hair came spilling out around his shoulders. Lucius Malfoy kept his glare locked on her face as he stowed his wand. "You were saying, my Lord?" he said smoothly, looking back to the man at the head of the table.

But Tom wasn't standing at the head of the table anymore.

He was lying on the floor, completely motionless, eyes open and blank, mouth agape. A violent chill ran down Ginny's spine. She'd seen people on the ground wearing that expression before. She honed in on his chest, waiting anxiously for it to rise or fall, but it was frozen. Bellatrix dropped to the ground and began to grope for a pulse or heartbeat, but Ginny already knew there was nothing there to find.

A memory flooded her mind:

_"I swear none of my Death Eaters will ever lay a finger or wand on you again," Tom whispered. The fiery snake tightened itself around their wrists, and then evaporated into ashes. "Believe me now?"_

_She stared. "An Unbreakable Vow?" _

_"Yes."_

_"You can't take that back."_

_"I know."_

With a terrible scream that nobody heard, Ginny drew her wand. She'd never cast a nonverbal spell before, but without even trying she sent a jet of red light at Malfoy. It missed his face by inches.

The Death Eaters still hadn't quite figured out what was going on. A few of them had run over to get a closer look at the situation. "_Finite incantatem_," one of them muttered in Ginny's ear - Snape, she thought - and with a gasp she began to sob.

Bellatrix emerged from beneath the table. "He's dead," she whispered. Thick black trails of mascara stained her cheeks. "I don't know how, but he's dead."

"_Malfoy_," screamed Ginny, pointing her wand at him again. "_Cruc -_"

Snape lunged toward her and pulled her wand arm down. He seized her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. She collapsed against his chest, sobbing. "What did Malfoy do?" Snape asked, and his tone was almost soothing. Bellatrix leaned in to listen.

"Tom made an Unbreakable Vow," she choked. "He promised none of his Death Eaters would cast a spell on me. And Malfoy just - just -"

Bellatrix put it together before Snape did. With a shriek, she brought her wand down in a sharp arch. "_Reducto!_" she yelled. Ginny looked up from Snape's robes just in time to see the curse hit Malfoy square in the chest. Malfoy was knocked off his feet and into the air. He hovered for a few seconds, his entire body glowing, and then, with a sickening _crunch,_ he exploded into thousands of pieces.

"What the bloody hell?" shouted a Death Eater, drawing his wand on Bellatrix.

"Back off, Yaxley!" screamed Bella, baring her teeth in a vicious snarl. People around the table began to draw their wands.

Ginny dropped to her knees. "Tom," she whispered, pressing her hand against his cheek; his skin was as cold as marble. "Wake up." He didn't stir. A surge of anger flowed through her, and she pulled her hand back to slap him, hoping against hope that he would grab her wrist in the nick of time, but her palm connected with his face. "I lift the Vow," she told him, taking one of his hands between both of her own. "I release you. It's over, it's broken, you can come back now, you can come back. . . ." One of her tears landed on his lower lip. "I don't want to go to your funeral yet," she whispered.

"Weasley." Snape laid a hand on her shoulder. Far above her, the Death Eaters had begun to shoot curses at each other. "You have to come with me. It isn't safe for you here."

"I love you," she admitted desperately to the corpse. "Do you hear me? I love you. Come back, come back!"

"Weasley." Snape half-lifted her to her feet. "Come with me."

She let him lead her down the Death Eater hallway to his apartment. It was cozy and well-furnished, with a brick fireplace and a plump, comfortable-looking couch; nothing like what Ginny had expected from the former potions master. "We don't have a of of time," he said, locking his door and sitting her down on the couch. "I need you to focus for me. Can you do that?"

"Tom is _dead_," she whispered. Her whole bode felt numb. "He just . . . fell. . . ."

"Listen to me. I'm going to get you out of here. I need you to take me to the Order."

"The Order?" Tom was dead. Tom was _dead. _

"The Order of the Phoenix, yes. Please at least _attempt_ to focus."

Tom was dead. No, no he wasn't. He was just lying there to punish her for wanting to leave. He was a liar, he had always been a liar.

"Weasley. _Ginny. _The Order."

In the back of her mind, something warned her not to tell. She shook her head. "I don't know anything about -"

"There's no time for that." He began to explain something about a memory charm and a pensieve, but he spoke too rapidly, and Ginny could barely hear anything anyway, her ears were ringing, Malfoy had exploded,Tom was _dead. _

_No,_ she reminded herself, _Tom's alive, he's fine, he's a stupid prat._

She saw Snape draw his wand and point it at her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she should get out of the way, but the spell hit her before she had time to react. As if a mental dam had been broken, a tsunami of forgotten memories flooded her brain. She saw Snape and Lily Potter embracing, Snape and Sirius with their wands drawn on each other, Snape and Dumbledore talking . . . Snape killed Dumbledore . . . Dumbledore wanted to die . . . Snape was good, he'd been good all this time. . . .

"Did you hear me?" Snape was saying now. "Stand up. You have to apparate us to the Order's headquarters."

Mechanically, she shook her head. "Can't. Anti-apparation spell. You have apparate upstairs, into the Leaky Cauldron." How could Tom do this to her? How could he pretend to die like this?

"Into the restaurant, then." He offered his arm. She stared at it, confused. Sighing, he grabbed her hand and placed it on his arm. "I'll take us, then. Hold tightly."

"What -" Ginny began, but with a _crack _they were out of Snape's apartment and stumbling into the dining area of the pub. Ginny hit the floor on her knees, gasping. "I wasn't _ready_," she panted, glaring up at her former teacher.

He pulled her to her feet. She led him to the kitchen. "I don't know if they're still down there," she said, pulling out her wand and tapping the cabinet. "I haven't been here in awhile. They might've moved." _They might be dead,_ a voice whispered inside her head. _Dead like Tom._ But Tom wasn't dead. He wasn't. He _wasn't. _"_Revelio_." The cabinet shuddered and moved aside, revealing the staircase. Her body flooded with relief as the faint sounds of conversation floated up to the kitchen. "Let me go first," she told Snape, starting down. "Don't let them see you yet."

She walked down the stairs carefully, trying her hardest not to trip, not to fall, not to think, Tom wasn't dead, he was fine, he'd be furious when he found out she left without saying goodbye . . . she'd made it to the bottom step, she was rounding the corner, she was here, she was back, she was home, Tom was dead, no he wasn't, don't think about it, don't think, don't think. The basement was set up to resemble the Gryffindor common room; she could smell the logs burning in the fireplace, she was almost there, almost home. . . .

"Ginny?"

_Ron._

For the second time that day, Ginny collapsed in tears. They were all there, all the regulars, or at least most of them: Hermione, George, Katie Bell, Neville, Luna, Lupin, McGonagall, _Ronald. _"It's me," she said. "I'm here."

"Ginny!" Hermione tackled her in a hug. "Where've you _been_?"

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked urgently, brushing tears from her cheeks with trembling fingers. Harry. Harry was good, Tom was bad, Tom was dead, Tom was fine, don't think. "Did he make it here?"

"Harry?" McGonagall rose from an armchair near the fire. "You found him?"

Ginny furrowed her brow. "He's not here yet?" she asked, and Lupin shook his head.

"There's someone on the staircase," reported Luna, and Ginny whirled around to see Snape creeping down the stairs.

"It's all right, he's with me," she said. "It's just Snape."

"_Snape?_" Ron roared, charging toward the stairs. Ginny tore after him.

"No, no, he's on our side!" She took a deep breath. "Voldemort is dead," she lied. It was a lie, wasn't it? Of course it was. Because he was just pretending, to keep himself safe, and she had to pretend along with him.

The room gasped collectively.

"He kidnapped me," she explained. "I thought I was never going to be able to leave. But now he's dead. Snape is on our side, I can prove it." She quickly recounted the last year of her life, glossing over certain bits about Tom and completely skipping Harry's death. Snape moved into a shadowy corner.

"So the Death Eaters started to fight," Ginny finished. "And in all the commotion, Snape and I apparated here."

Everyone began to talk at once, asking questions she didn't want to answer. She suddenly felt exhausted. "Is there anywhere I can lie down?"

George beckoned for her to follow him. "Yeah, over here - oi! Everybody let her alone for awhile!" George led her to a cot in the corner by the stairs. "Get some sleep," he said, ruffling her hair. "I'll send an owl to Mum telling her you're all right."

Ginny stretched out on the cot, watching the Order celebrate in front of the fireplace. Her head throbbed. _Don't think. Stop thinking. He's not dead. _

"Weasley."

She looked up to see Snape crouching over her. "It's my fault," she whispered. "If I'd kept my mouth shut. . . ."

"Did you love him?" he asked, no trace of mockery in his voice. "You said you loved him. Was it true?"

There was no point in denying it, not anymore, not to him. "Yes."

Snape scrutinized her for a moment. "All right," he said, and he was close enough that she could see real pain in his black eyes. "Give me three days." He stood and started to walk away up the stairs.

"Wait," Ginny called after him, sitting up. "Where are you going?" But Snape didn't turn around. She heard a loud _crack _overhead as he disapparated, and then the ginger sank back down on the cot, feeling, not for the first time in her life, thoroughly and utterly broken.


End file.
